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JOHN  DOUGUi 


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Ex  Libris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FATHER  AND  SON 


By  JOHN  DOUGLAS  ADAM 
Religion    and    the     Growing 

Mind.  i2mo,     cloth,   net,   .75 

"Packed  into  the  short  chapters  are 
the  concentrated  results  of  a  life  of  ex- 
perience with  the  indwelling  Christ. 
Starting  with  the  elemental  self  and 
its  growing  needs,  the  author  shows 
how  the  living  Christ  may  be  made  a 
reality  in  experience." 

— Sunday  School  Times 

"  Dr.  Adam  expounds  the  science  of  soul  cul- 
ture, giving  counsels  on  many  points  of  religious 
experience.  Will  be  an  inspiration  to  thousands 
of  young  lives." — 7"At'   British    Weekly. 

Letters    of  Father    and    Son 
During    College   Days. 

i2mo,   cloth,    net,   $1.00 

In  twenty-four  chapters,  life's  great 
problems  are  discussed  with  free- 
dom and  insight.  Study,  recreation, 
friends,  use  of  time,  money,  health, 
speech,  thought,  influence,  religion, 
trouble,  optimism  and  character  are 
some  of  the   subjects  treated. 


LETTERS   OF 


FATHER  AND  SON 


DURING  COLLEGE  DAYS 


By 
JOHN  DOUGLAS  ADAM 

Author  of  "Religion  and  the 
Growing  Mind" 


New  York 


Chicago 


Toronto 


Fleming  H.   Revell   Company 

London         and        Edinburgh 


Copyright,  19 13,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  is8  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  125  North  Wabash  Ave. 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Sciiiare 
Edinburgh:       100    F^rinces    Street 


An  J? 

Contents 

Introductory  . 

7 

I. 

Getting  Started 

II 

II. 

The  Influence  of  Study  . 

i8 

III. 

Concerning  Recreation  . 

.         26 

IV. 

Making  Friends 

.       34 

V. 

Social  Service 

.       43 

VI. 

A  Margin  of  Time  . 

.      51 

VII. 

The  Meaning  of  Life 

59 

VIII. 

What  Are  Hindrances  ? 

67 

IX. 

Healthy  Mindedness 

74 

X. 

Genial  Contact  with  the  World   , 

81 

XI. 

The  Management  of  Speech 

• 

.       88 

XII. 

Concerning  Money  . 

• 

.       96 

XIII. 

The  Seat  of  Character  . 

• 

.     106 

XIV. 

Anxiety  Concerning  Influence 

.     116 

XV. 

The  Larger  Meaning  of  Religion 

124 

XVI. 

The  Day  of  Trouble 
[5] 

• 

.     132 

1(22052 


Contents 

XVII. 

The    Influence  of  Trouble  upon 

Conduct 140 

XVIII. 

The  Optimistic  Spirit      .         .         .148 

XIX. 

Translating  Ideas  into  Character     157 

XX. 

Intuition  in  Christian  Belief          .     165 

XXI. 

Self-Giving,  OR  Getting  ?   .        .     .     173 

XXII. 

A  Vocation  in  Life          .        .        .181 

XXIII. 

Conviction  as  to  Duty    .         .        .193 

XXIV. 

The  Power  of  God  in  Work    .        .201 

[6] 


The    Father's    Letter 


INTRODUCTORY 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

Memories  of  my  own  early  college  days 
mingle  with  tny  thoughts  of  you  as  you  begin  your 
work  in  the  same  familiar  surroundings. 

It  has  occurred  to  me  that  it  might  be  profitable 
for  both  of  us,  if  we  were  to  write  to  each  othei- 
upon  some  of  the  phases  of  your  experiences  which 
you  would  not  discuss  in  the  ordinary  family  cor- 
respondence. Of  course,  it  would  be  strictly  be- 
tween ourselves.  I  am  keen  in  my  desire  that 
these  momentous  years  should  bring  to  your  prom- 
ising life  that  large  and  full  equipment  which  shall 
make  you  a  strong  and  useful  man. 

You  have  the  root  of  the  matter  in  you.  You 
have  the  vital  force  at  the  base  of  3'-our  nature, 
which  should  make  it  possible  for  you  to  assimilate 
into  personal  power  all  the  influences  which  shall 
press  in  upon  you. 

You  have  permitted  the  eternal  realities,  which 
are  playing  upon  the  spirit  of  every  man,  to  enter 
your  spirit.  A  healthy  tree  deeply  rooted  in  rich 
soil  is  able  to  gather  the  influence  of  rigorous 
changes  of  weather  into  its  expanding  life.  And  in 
the  same  way  since  vou  possess  the  secret  of  funda- 


Introductory 


mental  enrichment,  you  should  be  able  to  make 
every  kind  of  experience  which  you  shall  encounter 
contribute  to  the  expansion  of  your  personality. 

If  you  had  not  sufficient  life  force  in  your  ele- 
mental being,  if  you  did  not  possess  the  experi- 
mental knowledge  by  which  truth  may  be  turned 
into  character,  the  various  influences  at  work 
in  the  grand  old  place  in  which  your  lot  is  now 
cast,  might  weaken  instead  of  strengthen  you.  If  a 
tree  cannot  draw  nourishment  through  its  roots 
from  the  soil,  the  most  advantageous  climate  will 
not  save  it  from  the  blight  of  decay. 

And  it  is  through  the  operation  of  this  principle 
that  some  men,  in  circumstances  such  as  those  in 
which  you  are  now  placed,  are  not  strengthened  but 
weakened ;  their  character  does  not  expand,  it  con- 
tracts. 

The  fault  is  not  in  their  surroundings,  it  is  in  the 
lack  of  sufficient  nutriment  in  the  unseen  depths  of 
their  inner  life. 

But  if  we  take  for  granted  the  silent,  continual, 
appropriation  of  the  Divine  spirit,  freely  avaihil)le 
for  all  men,  and  we  have  spoken  of  this  at  length  on 
previous  occasions,  then  every  advantage,  e very- 
difficulty,  in  your  surroundings  should  result  in  the 
development  of  a  virile  manhood. 

But  that  is  the  crisis  of  the  whole  matter.  It  all 
depends  upon  whether  there  is  power  enough  within 
the  inner  life  to  perform  the  function  of  assimilating 

[8] 


The    Father's     Letter 


;ill  the  tasks,  and  ex[)eriences,  of  every  day,  into 
moral  and  mental  vigour.  It  is  the  suilicicncy  or 
insufficiency  of  that  inner  reserve  of  vitality,  which 
determines  the  effect  which  discipline  and  trial  shall 
have  upon  you. 

It  is  for  that  reason  the  same  set  of  circumstances 
makes  one  man  strong  and  another  man  weak. 

You  are  in  a  gymnasium  for  the  expansion  of  the 
full  range  of  your  manhood,  and  it  is  for  men  who 
possess  such  culture  the  world  is  waiting,  men 
whose  whole  nature  has  been  deepened  and  broad- 
ened, by  physical,  mental,  and  moral  disci))line. 

The  entire  world  is  on  the  verge,  or  in  the 
process,  of  vast  changes  in  every  aspect  of  its  life. 
There  probably  never  was  a  time  when  so  much  of 
the  thought  of  the  world  was  in  the  melting  pot. 

The  call  for  leaders,  for  pioneers,  to  blaze  the 
trail,  to  stake  out  the  new  territory  for  the  new  hu- 
manity, becomes  louder  every  day.  Are  you  to 
have  a  part  in  the  exhilarating  movements  of  our 
time  ?  That  will,  in  part,  depend  upon  whether 
you  rise  into  a  broad,  massive,  vigorous  manhood. 

Let  nothing  defeat  your  growth.  Let  no  petty 
malice,  no  fear  of  the  world,  no  churlish  sneer,  no 
mean  revenge,  have  the  ghost  of  a  chance  to  canker 
the  flowing  sap  of  your  rising  enthusiasms.  Let  no 
mental  or  moral  poisonous  insect  eat  its  way  through 
the  bark  of  your  character. 

You  have  a  chance  to  take  a  part  in  the  affairs  of 

[9J 


I ntroductory 


what  may  be  the  most  momentous  period  in  the 
history  of  the  world,  an  opportunity  which  coura- 
geous older  men  may  well  envy. 

And  when  a  man  is  about  to  enter  into  a  great 
game,  which  tens  of  thousands  are  gathering  to 
witness,  he  does  not  allow  anything  to  handicap 
him  in  playing  up  to  the  last  ounce  of  his  capacity. 
All  the  world  is  drawing  near,  and  closing  round, 
to  see  the  modern  contest  between  contending  ideas 
and  forces. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[10] 


The    Son's    Letter 


GETTING 
STARTED 

Dear  Father  : 

I  have  been  taking  comfort  from  the  fact 
that  even  an  express  train  does  not  start  on  its 
journey  at  the  rate  of  sixty  miles  an  hour.  And  I 
ain  not  an  express  train  ;  an  accommodation  ti'ain 
which  stops  at  every  station,  and  sometimes  at  the 
slightest  provocation  between  stations,  is  more  like 
my  pace. 

That  promise  which  I  made  to  you  in  my  letter 
the  other  day,  to  take  up  your  suggestion  of  a  cor- 
respondence along  the  line  you  indicated,  appears 
to  me  at  this  moment  to  have  been  a  trifle  rash. 
For  there  does  not  seem  to  be  much  to  write  about, 
of  anything  like  thrilling  importance. 

However,  your  idea  that  we  should  privately  dis- 
cuss some  of  the  things  which  are  of  real  conse- 
quence in  ray  life  still  appeals  to  me.  And  it 
appeals  to  me  all  the  more  because  you  have  always 
been  so  reasonable  with  me  ;  you  have  patiently 
tried  to  see  things  from  my  point  of  view  to  such  a 
degree  that  I  feel  able  to  write  to  you  as  I  could 
to  no  other. 

And  since  you  emphasized  that  what  we  say  to 

[11] 


Getting    Started 


each  other  shall  be  distinctly  between  ourselves,  I 
have  no  reluctance  on  the  score  of  appearing  either 
priggish  or  sheepish.  And  whatever  you  may 
feel  in  your  heart  to  say  to  me  will  always  have 
a  respectful  hearing,  for  I  have  perfect  confidence 
in  your  fairness,  as  well  as  a  deep  conviction  of 
your  devoted  interest  in  all  that  concerns  me. 

But  the  difficulty  still  remains  of  having  some- 
thing of  adequate  importance  upon  which  to  write 
to  you.  For  you  stated  distinctly  that  this  corre- 
spondence is  to  be  apart  altogether  from  the  ordi- 
nary family  communications.  So  that  I  feel  some- 
what as  if  I  were  sitting  in  front  of  an  examination 
paper  which  was  too  much  for  me. 

The  only  way  in  which  I  can  respond  to  your 
idea  is  to  tell  you  quite  frankly  of  the  things  which 
are  most  vividly  in  my  mind.  And  the  most  vivid 
fact  in  my  thoughts  is  that  I  miss  you  all  horribly. 
It  is  terribly  difficult  to  get  up  steam  for  my  work. 
Everything  in  the  direction  of  study  is  a  good  deal 
of  a  bore.  I  am  restless.  The  free  life  of  the 
glorious  summer  with  my  sailboat  still  calls  me. 
AVhen  I  sit  down  to  work,  it  occurs  to  me  just  then 
that  I  must  go  out  to  buy  something. 

It  is  awfully  hard  to  break  myself  in.  Or  to  re- 
turn to  the  idea  of  the  accommodation  train,  it  is  not 
easy  to  climb  the  first  steep  grade  of  the  railway. 
The  wheels  of  my  locomotive  go  round  furiously 
enough,  but  they  do  not  go  forward  satisfactorily. 

[12] 


The    Father's    Reply 


I  suppose  some  saiul  must  bo  let  out  so  that  the 
wheels  may  grip  the  rails.  And  perhaps  you  will 
play  the  part  of  a  relief  engine  and  give  me  a  i)usli 
u})  the  hill  till  I  reach  the  level  stretch  of  country. 
The  line  is  all  clear,  and  I  hope  to  arrive  on 
time.  My  associate,  David  Seton,  is  a  capital  fel- 
low. He  is  not  very  talkativ^e,  but  he  has  a  (]uiet 
sense  of  humour  which  struggles  bravely  out  of  a 
reserved  nature. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Artuur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  ac- 
commodation train  will  reach  its  destination  on 
time.  And  if  I  can  play  the  part  of  a  relief  en- 
gine, it  is  at  your  service  ;  not  to  push  you  too  hard, 
but  to  help  you  to  take  the  steep  grades. 

AVhen  I  suggested  this  correspondence  there  was 
no  idea  in  my  mind  of  posing  as  the  head-line  of  a 
copy-book  which  children  are  taught  to  imitate.  It 
was  rather  the  strong  desire  to  keep  up  the  comrade- 
ship between  us,  which  is  one  of  the  most  satisfy- 
ing things  in  my  life.  T  am  keen  to  share  all  that 
interests  you,  as  far  as  that  is  possible.  And  if  I 
write  to  you  with  great  frankness,  it  is  not  with  any 
sui)erior  airs,  but  that  you  may  have  the  benefit  of  my 
larger  experience,  for  what  it  may  be  worth  to  you. 

[13] 


Getting    Start ed 


I  have  made  mistakes,  many  of  them.  And  it  is 
partly  because  of  those  mistakes  that  I  may  be  of 
some  use  to  you  at  the  present  stage  of  your  hfe. 

It  is  not  the  man  who  is  standing  on  a  hill  who 
sees  the  hill ;  it  is  the  other  man  who  is  looking  at 
it  from  some  distance.  And  in  the  same  way,  it  is 
perhaps  possible  for  me  to  see  your  situation  better 
than  you  can  see  it. 

I  like  your  illustration  of  starting  like  a  train,  for 
however  slowly  it  may  move,  it  is  headed  towards 
a  definite  point.  And  you  know  from  your  ex- 
perience in  sailing  a  small  boat  inshore  without  a 
compass,  how  important  it  is  to  keep  the  spot 
towards  which  you  are  steering  steadily  in  your 
eye,  otherwise  your  course  is  indirect. 

My  first  word  to  you  is  to  keep  your  goal  clearly 
in  view ;  make  it  as  vivid  as  possible  to  your  mind. 

Just  as  when  one  is  about  to  build  a  house  he  has 
plans  drawn,  so  draw  a  plan,  as  it  were,  of  your 
educational  house.  We  may  consider  the  question 
of  the  f urnishinfj  of  the  house  later  on  :  I  mean  bv 
that  the  interior  details  of  your  mental  and  social 
life.  And  still  later  it  will  be  important  to  discuss 
the  use  you  shall  make  of  it  all,  that  is  to  say,  the 
life-work  which  you  may  decide  to  take  up. 

In  the  meantime  the  important  thing  is  to  have 
a  clear  plan  of  the  main  sections  of  your  present 
life.  These,  it  seems  to  me,  might  be  divided  into 
four  parts :  work,  recreation,  f riendshi]),  and  service. 

[14] 


The    Father's    Reply- 


It  is  your  privilege  to  give  each  of  these  aspects 
of  your  present  opportunity  its  own  legitimate 
place. 

It  would  be  comparatively  easy  to  plan  for  any 
one  of  these,  which  might  a|)])eal  to  one's  taste.  A  nd 
that  is  the  temptation  to  which  some  surrender, 
partly  because  they  do  not  keep  a  definite  plan 
before  their  mind,  and  partly  because  they  yield  to 
inclination  rather  than  to  reason. 

The  purpose  which  is  behind  the  university  idea 
is  the  development  of  the  whole  man. 

It  is  the  combination  of  opportunities  which  is 
the  genius  of  the  place.  One  might  pursue  else- 
where any  single  phase  of  the  culture  which  it 
offers. 

So  that  you  must  guard  against  the  over-empha- 
sis of  any  one  aspect.  Keep  the  plan  of  your  edu- 
cational house  symmetrical ;  have  an  eye  for  pro- 
portion. Of  course,  the  central  room  is  for  study  ; 
that  must  have  the  most  spacious  o})portunity. 
The  idea  of  work  must  govern  the  whole  scheme. 

But  the  other  sections  of  your  life  are  not  to  be 
housed  in  a  barn  or  a  garage  detached  from  the 
main  structure.  Nor  must  it  be  the  other  way 
about.  Some  few  men  make  their  educational 
house  a  mere  club,  social  or  athletic,  while  their 
study  is  a  ramshackle  barn,  detached  from  their 
dwelling  place. 

You  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  final  result  is 

[15] 


Getting    Started 


not  the  production  of  a  mental  or  physical,  or  so- 
cial freak.  The  college  idea  is  vindicated  by  the 
making  of  all  round  young  manhood.  Do  not  at 
any  time  allow  yourself  to  become  discouraged 
when  you  are  outstripped  in  any  one  sphere  of 
your  efforts,  if  you  have  been  faithful ;  for,  in  the 
last  analysis,  it  is  the  proportionate  man  who  is  the 
highest  product  of  your  present  opportunity. 

Your  time  for  specializing  has  not  yet  arrived  ;  it 
will  come  soon  enough. 

Having  definitely  before  your  mind  the  idea  of 
proportion  in  all  your  activities,  it  will  require  the 
continual  exercise  of  clear  thinking  and  of  a  tireless 
will  to  carry  out  the  idea. 

You  will  find  all  about  you  a  variety  of  standards 
as  to  what  proportionate  living  really  means.  You 
will  be  impelled  by  one  set  of  men  in  one  direction, 
and  by  another  set  in  another  direction.  But  your 
own  judgment  must  act  in  this  matter  and  not  the 
judgment  of  any  set.  You  are  building  your  own 
house ;  it  is  not  being  built  for  you  by  any  group 
of  men,  however  charming  they  may  be.  The  need 
of  our  time  is  for  men  who  dare  to  follow  their  own 
convictions  when  they  know  they  are  right. 

You  are  not  a  schoolboy  ;  you  have  the  large 
liberty  of  choice  which  belongs  to  a  man.  You 
are  free  to  exercise  the  authority  of  your  own 
sovereign  reason.  You  are  flung  u])on  your  own 
resources  to  an  extraordinary  degree.     There  are 

[16] 


The    Father's    Reply 


periods  of  your  time  in  which  you  may  do  as  you 
l)lease.  It  would  therefore  be  a  huge  mistake,  hav- 
ing passed  beyond  the  authority  which  was  over 
your  life  as  a  boy,  to  merely  exchange  it  for  the 
authority  of  a  company  of  your  fellows. 

It  is  not  indifference  on  the  part  of  the  college 
authorities  which  leaves  men  so  much  to  them- 
selves ;  that  liberty  is  part  of  the  discipline  of  stu- 
dent life.  It  is  part  of  the  process  by  which  men 
develop  individuality,  by  which  they  are  made 
strong  and  resourceful. 

But  while  urging  you  to  maintain  the  attitude  of 
independent  judgment  in  the  arrangement  of  your 
life,  I  am  far  from  trying  to  encourage  an  attitude 
of  aloofness,  or  reserve  towards  your  associates. 
That  would  be  more  than  a  mistake ;  it  would  be 
an  injustice  both  to  them  and  yourself.  It  wouhi 
be  a  direct  violation  of  the  college  spirit.  You 
stand  committed  to  independence  and  comradeship. 

And  you  must  detei-mine  where  loyalty  to  your 
own  judgment  should  end,  and  where  loyalty  to 
good  fellowshij)  should  begin. 

The  line  of  demarcation  is  sometimes  a  very 
thin  one,  and  one  of  your  tasks  is  to  discover  where 
it  lies. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[17] 


The    Influence    of  Study 


II 

THE  INFLUENCE 
OF  STUDY 

Dear  Father  : 

Why  should  study  fill  so  large  a  place  in  my 
plan,  especially  the  study  of  subjects  which  may 
be  very  remote  from  the  actual  duties  that  I  shall 
probably  encounter  when  I  leave  college  ? 

Many  men,  after  they  have  finished  tlieir  studies, 
feel  that  they  must  begin  at  the  very  fountlation  in 
the  business  which  they  enter.  They  confess  to  be 
as  ignorant  of  the  facts  of  business  as  an  office 
boy  who  never  saw  a  college.  And  this  applies 
not  only  in  commercial  affairs ;  even  when  a  man 
goes  into  a  profession  he  rarely  carries  all  he  has 
studied  at  college  with  him  into  his  special  sphere 
of  investigation. 

One  often  hears  the  utility  of  this  or  that  study 
questioned  or  repudiated.  And  that  may  be  one 
of  the  reasons  why  some  students  are  not  in  the 
least  serious  over  their  work.  They  have  not  seen 
the  reasonableness  of  it.  The_y  feel  it  to  be  some- 
thing which  they  must  get  thi'ougli  in  some  way, 
like  pushing  through  a  thorny  hedge.  Or  they 
may  jump  over  it,  or  go  round  another  way.  So 
tliat  instead  of  going  on  with  tlie  prescribed  course, 

[18j 


The    Son's    Letter 


they  either  find  other  reading  which  is  congenial 
to  them,  or  become  engrossed  in  some  pursuit 
which  is  outside  the  pale  of  study  altogether. 

In  this  practical  age  it  does  not  seem  to  me  quite 
reasonable  that  one's  nund  should  be  made  a  grave 
in  which  the  memories  of  ancient  wise  men  and 
their  subtle  utterances  are  buried.  As  one  thinks 
of  the  large  number  of  college  men  who  are  now 
out  in  the  world  engrossed  in  its  practical  affaii's, 
they  appear  to  me  to  be  carrying  about  with  them 
a  good  deal  of  useless  material.  There  are  broken 
splinters  of  ancient  knowledge  on  shelves  of  their 
mind  like  fossil  specimens  in  a  museum.  It  may  be 
interesting  to  some  people  to  have  such  a  museum, 
but  it  is  hardly  a  practical  armoury  from  which  to 
obtain  weapons  to  make  one's  way  in  the  world. 

It  does  not  seem  to  me  that  it  is  clear  enough  to 
many  of  us  why  we  should  be  greatly  in  earnest  to 
continue  that  sort  of  thing.  One  would  like  to 
know  much  more  definitely  than  many  of  us  do, 
wherein  lies  the  true  effectiveness  of  such  study. 

It  may  not  have  been  so  in  your  day,  but  I  iind 
that  there  is  a  silent  protest  in  a  great  many  mintls 
concerning  the  reasonableness  of  it.  But,  of  course, 
it  is  perhaps  not  often  outwardly  expressed,  because 
there  is  no  purpose  served  in  talking  about  it. 

The  work  has  to  be  done,  that  is  all  there  is 
about  it,  if  one  is  to  stay  in  the  ranks. 

But  it  seems  a  pity  that  more  of  us  do  not  quite 

[10] 


The    Influence    of    Study 

grasp  the  meaning  of  it.  For  tliere  must  be  a 
larger  meaning  in  it  than  appears,  or  men  like 
yourself  would  not  be  so  enthusiastic  in  your  advo- 
cacy of  it.  And  it  would  not  have  the  sanction  of 
so  large  a  part  of  the  intelligent  world. 

If  the  end  in  view  were  made  clearer,  more  ra- 
tional, to  some  of  us,  then  there  might  be  more 
respect,  more  seriousness,  more  enthusiasm,  given 
to  work  which  gets  scant  courtesy  in  some  quarters. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthuk. 

My  dear  Arthur  : 

At  one  time  in  some  prisons  the  prisoners 
were  required  to  turn  a  crank  thousands  of  times 
every  day ;  the  labour  had  no  meaning,  and  that  was 
part  of  the  degrading  punishment.  Study  without 
knowing  the  reason  for  engaging  in  it  is  also  sla- 
very. It  is  not  only  j^our  privilege  to  know  the 
reason  for  study,  but  it  is  your  clear  duty  to  have  a 
vivid  view  of  its  meanino^.  Without  that  vou  can 
never  obtain  anything  Like  the  full  benelit  from 
3^our  work.  And  since  it  is  study  whicli  is  to  have 
the  most  spacious  jilace  in  your  present  life-})lan,  I 
am  glad  you  have  i-aised  the  (juestion  of  its  mean- 
ing with  such  refreshing  frankness. 

Education  means  lirst  and  foremost  tlie  develo])- 
ment  of  the  powers  of  one's  being.     That  is  the 

[20] 


The    Father's    Reply 


meaning  of  the  word.  Education  means  to  ac(iuire 
the  ability  to  think  for  oneself,  to  act  with  force 
and  resource  in  dillicult  })r()blenis,  to  acquire  a 
thir-st  for  knowledge,  and  to  obtain  the  broader 
outlook  upon  life. 

Whatever  form  of  mental  enterprise  achieves  that 
result  is  vastly  worth  while.  We  must  keep  first 
things  first.  The  supreme  object  in  your  present 
stage  of  life  is  the  growth,  the  strengthening,  the 
tempering  of  the  elements  of  your  being.  The 
education  of  the  will,  the  pcnver  to  concentrate,  the 
training  of  the  imagination,  the  alert  retentiveness 
of  the  memory,  the  fusion  of  the  personality  into  a 
poised  unity.  These  things  are  of  far  more  value 
to  you  than  the  mere  acquisition  of  knowledge. 
And  when  you  are  at  that  kind  of  work  which  has 
no  aj)parent  practical  value,  bear  in  mind  that  the 
educational  value  may  be  very  great,  nevertheless. 
Those  men  to  whom  you  referred  as  having  frag- 
ments of  ancient  knowledge  in  their  minds  which 
liave  no  relation  to  their  actual  work  in  the  world, 
if  they  were  faithful,  possess  the  mental  power 
that  came  from  the  study  of  ancient  knowledge. 
Thev  are  carrvino:  into  their  business  tlie  concentra- 
lion,  the  mental  stability  and  breadth  which  they 
obtained  fi-om  studies  which  may  have  had  no  com- 
mercial  bearing  upon  their  subsequent  occupation. 

Rut  the  scalfolding  by  which  a  building  is  put 
up  is  not  a  useless  thing  because  it  merely  serves  a 

[21] 


The    Influence    of   Study 

temporary  purpose.    The  permanent  structure  could 
not  have  been  erected,  without  it. 

Of  course,  it  is  quite  true  that  practical  informa- 
tion and  the  development  of  the  powers  may  be 
obtained  at  the  same  time.  One  may  get  an  edu- 
cation  through  the  study  of  those  subjects  which 
have  a  direct  bearing  upon  one's  work  in  the  world. 
And  here  the  educational  world  divides  up  into 
different  camps,  some  contending  that  the  education 
of  the  powers  should  be  realized  wholly  through 
the  study  of  practical  subjects.  While  others  con- 
tend that  a  higher,  a  finer  type  of  culture  can  be 
obtained  through  giving  an  important  place  to  the 
study  of  subjects  Avhich  are  not  dii-ectly  practical. 
There  is  much  to  be  said  for  both  views. 

Your  programme  of  study  splits  the  difference, 
which  is  the  correct  method  according  to  many 
experts.  You  have  mostly  practical  subjects  and 
some  non-practical  subjects ;  so  that  in  your  pursuit 
of  education  your  method  is  quite  abreast  of  the 
educational  philosophy  of  our  time. 

From  my  point  of  view  the  important  thing  is 
that  you  should  be  able  to  assimilate  into  your  per- 
sonality all  that  you  observe  and  study.  You  must 
have  vigour  enough  in  the  depths  of  your  nature 
to  make  what  occupies  your  attention  jxirt  of  your 
personality.  For  it  is  possible  to  study  without 
making  what  you  study  contribute  to  tlie  making 
of  your  manhood. 

[22] 


The    Father's    Reply 


And  in  my  judgnient  this  is  where  education  is 
insi)ired  by  spiritual  reality.  As  the  base  of  a 
man's  nature  is  reinforced  by  his  contact  with  eter- 
nal realities,  his  })ei"sonality  is  so  invigorated  that 
he  is  able  to  make  sul)jects  which  he  works  over 
part  of  his  elemental  self.  What  he  studies  is  not 
external  to  his  deepest  self.  It  is  not  merely 
placed  in  a  coin})artment  of  his  being.  It  becomes 
part  of  the  unilied  nature  of  the  man,  instead  of 
being  lodged  in  the  intellectual  department  of  his 
life  like  books  on  a  shelf. 

That  is  to  say  the  great  facts  of  the  spiritual 
world,  feeding  the  core  of  one's  life,  guarantee  the 
assimilaticm  of  what  one  studies  into  the  centre  of 
his  being.  So  that  the  fruit  of  study  means  more 
character,  as  well  as  more  brain  power.  If  one's 
religion  is  a  vital  energy  flowing  into  his  spirit,  as 
I  know  yours  is,  then  everything  that  is  studied, 
everything  that  is  done,  is  gathered  into  the  unity 
of  an  expantling  personality. 

While  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  roots  of  a  life 
are  not  fed,  it  is  possible  for  study  to  be  nothing 
more  than  the  quickening  of  the  intellectual  section 
of  one's  being.  It  does  not  reach,  or  eni'ich,  the 
deeper  life.  It  merely  sharpens  the  wits,  without 
strengthening  the  character.  So  that  it  becomes 
possible  for  one  to  grow  in  brain  power,  without 
growing  in  inner  solidity  and  unity  of  nature. 
And  such  a  person  may  become  a  dangerous  char- 

[23  J 


The    Influence    of    Study 

acter,  because  he  is  developing  his  brain  without 
uniting  his  brain  to  his  conscience,  without  unify- 
ing his  whole  life.  This  is  one  of  the  perils  of  an 
education  which  ignores  the  spiritual  in  man.  Foi- 
it  is  the  recognition  that  human  life  is  at  bottom 
a  spiritual  force,  which  tends  to  draw  knowledge 
down  into  character,  and  puts  character  into  knowl- 
edge. While  knowledge  without  Divine  life  at  its 
base  is  mere  mental  keenness,  without  being  related 
to  high  motives,  or  ideals,  for  its  shrewd  actions. 
And  a  merely  mentally  shrewd,  and  mentally  strong 
man  may  be  the  most  mischievous  person  in  a  com- 
munity or  a  nation. 

Learn  to  assimilate  what  you  study,  make  it  part 
of  your  deepest  self.  Some  men  are  not  educated  ; 
they  are  tutored,  they  are  crammed  for  examina- 
tions. They  are  artificially  braced  to  jump  over 
intellectual  fences  and  then  they  relapse  back  into 
mental  indolence.  That  is  not  true  education. 
Education  consists  in  the  culture  of  the  powers  of 
one's  being  in  such  a  way  as  to  guarantee  that 
the  process  begun  in  college  shall  go  on  naturally 
all  thi'ough  life. 

In  fact,  the  academic  period  only  develops  and 
teaches  the  use  of  the  faculties,  which  must  in- 
dustriously engage  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge 
through  all  the  subsequent  years. 

It  is  not  what  a  college  graduate  knows  that 
gives  him  his  supreme  advantage  in  the  race  of  life, 

[24] 


The    Father's    Reply 


it  is  his  ubility  to  marshal  the  forces  of  his  inner 
being,  to  face  the  problems  which  confront  him 
Avith  p(j\vers  that  have  been  disciplined  by  concen- 
tration and  self-concjuest. 


Youii  Affectionate  Father. 


[25] 


Concerning    Recreation 


III 

CONCERNING 

RECREATION 

Dear  Father  : 

You  have  really  helped  me  to  see  that  true 
education  means  the  expansion  of  mind  and  char- 
acter. And  that  an}^  study  which  has  the  effect  of 
producing  that  result  is  of  the  highest  value. 

I  see  more  clearly  than  before  that  my  present 
business  is  to  achieve  the  development  of  my 
powers,  rather  than  to  put  the  supreme  emphasis 
upon  the  acquisition  of  knowledge.  That  ^vill  be 
my  inspiration  as  I  try  to  plow  through  the  tough, 
stony  ground  of  some  studies  which  are  not  con- 
genial. Or  to  put  it  in  the  language  of  your  game 
of  golf,  I  shall  win  as  many  holes  of  knowledge  as 
I  can,  but  the  main  thing  for  the  present  will  be  to 
learn  the  proper  use  of  the  clubs,  and  to  practice 
into  the  style  of  the  game,  and  to  get  the  exercise. 

Speaking  of  exercise,  I  have  been  asked  to  join 
the  university  football  team  as  half-back. 

It  was  a  great  surprise,  but  I  suppose  that  certain 
accidental  performances  of  mine,  of  which  you  know 
something,  have  been  talking  on  my  behalf. 

Of  course,  I  am  enormously  pleased  to  be  asked. 
What  do  you  think  of  the  idea  ?     When  I  ask  this 

[26] 


The    Son's    Letter 


question  let  me  say  quite  frankly  I  aui  not  so  much 
asking  your  advice  as  your  permission.  I  supjKjse 
advice  is  needed  ujxjn  this  matter  as  well  as  upon 
others.  But  it  would  not  be  quite  straight  for  me  to 
say  that  I  am  hungering  for  counsel  on  the  subject. 

Jkit  1  am  exceetlingly  anxious  to  have  y<nu'  ap- 
proval. If  you  disap})rove,  of  course  the  delight- 
ful invitation  will  be  declined.  Hut  it  will  be  a 
bitter  disappointment.  Because  it  is  the  one  thing 
that  I  have  been  secretly  hoping  might  come  my 
way,  although  I  have  made  no  effort  to  secure  the 
chance  to  play.  You  have  made  no  objection  in  the 
past,  but  I  can  see  you  might  think  that  in  my 
present  circumstances  it  would  be  better  for  me  to 
decline.  You  have  sometimes  criticized  what 
seemed  to  you  the  roughness  of  the  game,  and  you 
have  suspected  that  it  drew  men  away  from  their 
studies  to  an  extent  that  was  unwarrantable.  Be- 
sides, I  know  that  mother  has  always  been  a  trifle 
nervous  about  my  engaging  in  the  game,  especially 
since  Daisy  told  her  she  saw  me  carried  off  the 
flehl. 

You  know  as  much  about  football  as  I  do,  so 
there  is  no  need  for  me  to  discuss  the  matter  with 
you.  You  have  always  tried  to  see  my  point  of 
view  in  everything,  and  there  is  nothing  in  which  I 
am  more  concerned  to  have  you  see  it  than  in  the 
matter  before  us.  But  I  leave  my  case  in  your 
hands  without  argument.     All  I  ask  is  that  before 

[27] 


Concerning    Recreation 

you  discuss  it  with  mother,  you  wUl  tell  her  your 
own  judgment  in  the  case.  She  always  thinks 
your  decision  about  right  in  everything.  You  told 
me  before  I  came  here  that  you  would  not  try  to 
coerce  me  in  anything ;  but  it  would  be  no  real 
pleasure  for  me  to  follow  up  any  line  of  my  own  in 
which  I  was  conscious  of  the  disapproval  of  mother 
and  yourself. 

I  am  particularly  anxious  to  have  you  with  me 
in  this  decision,  and  shall  wait  with  as  much  pa- 
tience as  is  possible  to  command  in  the  circum- 
stances. 

Whatever  you  decide  shall  be  final.  There  will 
be  no  attempt  to  make  a  further  appeal.  I  have 
perfect  confidence  that  you  will  give  the  matter  the 
fair  and  large  consideration  which  you  give  to 
everything  else. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

I  firmly  believe  that  recreation  should  have 
a  recognized  ])lace,  and  not  a  mere  haphazard  o])- 
portunity,  in  your  educational  ])lan.  Physical  ef- 
ficiency has  a  direct  influence  upon  mental  and 
moral  efficiency,  as  well  as  the  other  way  about ; 
the  two  sides  of  life  act  and  react  upon  each  other. 
And  the  main  reason  whv  some  men  are  failui'cs  is 

[28] 


The    Father's    Reply 


because  they  have  not  learned  the  art  of  the  man- 
agement of  their  bodies. 

On  general  princii)les,  I  look  upon  footljall  as  a 
great  game.  But  when  it  comes  down  to  having 
you  join  the  university  team,  and  while  I  am  grat- 
ified to  know  that  you  have  been  asked,  objections 
begin  to  ci'op  up  in  my  mind. 

You  hit  exactly  upon  the  reasons  for  my  reluc- 
tance. Without  meaning  to  do  it,  perhaps  without 
being  conscious  of  it,  one  is  tem})ted  to  neglect  his 
intellectual  work.  The  time  required  for  practice 
tends  to  drive  study  into  a  corner. 

Then,  too,  while  the  rules  of  the  game  have  been 
considerably  modified  in  recent  years,  it  talces  a 
long  time  for  one  to  get  hardened  to  it. 

The  knocks  and  kicks  leave  the  body  rather  seedy 
for  two  or  three  months  at  the  beginning  of  the 
season,  until  it  gets  braced  up  to  the  furious  pace. 
And  the  reflex  action  of  that  aching  physical  con- 
dition is  hard  upon  the  habit  of  study. 

At  the  same  time,  if  one  can  be  true  to  his  Avork, 
w4iile  he  is  being  physically  toughened  by  the 
game,  I  believe  the  result  may  be  a  great  increase 
of  efficiency. 

I  mentioned  the  matter  to  your  mother,  and  as 
you  surmised,  she  objected.  But  we  have  been 
talking  the  matter  over  since  and  she  has  consented 
to  leave  it  in  our  hands  to  decide.  But  she  made 
me  promise  to  state  the  reasons  to  you  which  I 

[29] 


Concerning    Recreation 

gave  to  her  in  favour  of  the  game,  and  also  to  make 
it  clear  to  you  that  if  your  studies  become  threat- 
ened you  will  withdraw  from  playing. 

My  argument  with  your  mother  was  that  while 
it  presented  serious  temptations  to  scamp  j'^our 
work,  on  the  other  hand  if  you  were  true  to  your 
work,  while  engaging  in  the  game,  you  would  be- 
come a  stronger  man  in  every  way  by  the  process. 

In  the  life  of  a  healthy  youth  there  must  be  op- 
portunities for  physical  daring  and  endurance,  es- 
pecially in  a  countr}-^  like  ours  where  there  is  no 
compulsory  military  service,  and  in  an  age  when 
there  is  nothing  compulsory  to  call  out  the  reserves 
of  ph^^sical  power  in  the  lives  of  young  men  in 
your  circumstances. 

Every  rational  challenge  to  the  exercise  of  cour- 
age is  part  of  the  making  of  a  man.  And  the  dif- 
ference between  physical  and  moral  courage  is  not 
always  so  real  as  it  is  often  made  to  appear.  At 
any  rate,  physical  and  moral  courage  act  and  react 
upon  each  other. 

The  habit  of  habitual  hard  exercise  is  a  safety- 
valve  through  which  energy  esca})es  which  might 
endanger  the  moral  character  if  it  had  no  whole- 
some, legitimate  outlet.  For  the  youth  who  has  no 
enthusiastic,  healthy  hobby  in  the  open  air  which 
tends  to  use  up  his  surplus  of  animal  force  is  in 
greater  moral  danger  than  those  who  have  such  a 
hobby. 

[30] 


The    Father's    Reply 


There  is  also  an  <j})|»(>i'tuiiity  for  the  ciilUire  ol" 
eiithusiasiii  through  an  honest  use  of  the  game.  It 
helps  a  man  to  strike  tlie  elemental  deptlis  ot  his 
being,  lie  feels  the  surge  of  those  tides  of  reality 
witiiin  him  which  rise  up  from  that  zone  in  om- 
human  nature  in  which  heroisms  are  born.  There 
are  too  many  people  living  in  the  thin,  cold  feelings 
of  their  superlicial  selves,  who  are  tempted  to  look 
out  cynically  upon  life  because  they  have  never  let 
a  genuine  enthusiasm  break  through  the  liai'd  upper 
crust  of  their  personality,  reaching  the  molten 
de[)ths  beneath,  where  alone  th(.'deep  joys  and  satis- 
factions of  life  are  felt.  An  hour  of  joyous  ele- 
mental living  should  enrich  the  inner  life.  The 
overflow  from  the  deep  springs  of  the  spirit  should 
refresh  the  whole  nature  of  a  man.  Any  legitimate 
|)ursuit  which  saves  a  life  from  freezing  over  is  to 
be  welcomed,  any  honourable  call  to  the  powers  of 
the  whole  man  which  kee})s  him  in  intimate  touch 
with  the  deej),  warm  currents  within  him,  must 
mean  all  round  expansion. 

The  culture  of  personal  initiative,  the  ability  to 
decide  in  a  moment  how  to  act,  without  being  par- 
alyzed into  confusion,  is  by  no  means  the  least  of 
the  advantages  to  be  gained  from  playing  the  game. 

The  discipline  of  the  judgment  into  rapid,  cool, 
concentrated  action,  instead  of  sluggish  indecisicjn 
and  uncertainty,  is  an  enormous  asset  in  life,  and  it 
is  wisdom  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  foot- 

L':;i  J 


Concerning    Recreation 

ball  field  may  greatly  aid  in  the  production  of  so 
important  a  result.  And  it  may  teach  a  man  self- 
control  when  nothing  else  could  succeed ;  to  be 
compelled  by  opponents,  by  a  watching,  critical 
crowd,  to  play  the  game  fairly  in  hot,  tense  mo- 
ments when  the  whole  nature  of  a  man  is  in  the 
lightning  rush  is  a  terrible  strain.  And  if  one  can 
come  through  the  ordeal  with  a  clean  sense  of  fair- 
ness, he  has  packed  weeks  of  ordinary  self-manage- 
ment into  an  hour  of  triumphant  self-discipline. 

Besides,  the  straight  player  learns,  under  a  rod  of 
iron,  to  remember  that  the  whole  team  is  the  unit. 
He  must,  like  clockwork,  subordinate  himself  and 
his  impulses  to  the  making  of  the  fortunes  of  his 
side.  Solidarity  is  the  watchword.  There  is  no 
quarter  for  mere  personal  inclination,  or  pig-headed- 
ness.  Every  muscle  and  motion  must  bend  to  the 
common  struggle.  And  it  is  safe  to  say  that  not 
much  would  be  left  of  the  self-willed  bearing,  and 
spirit,  of  any  mother's  spoiled  boy,  if  he  should 
happen  to  get  on  to  the  field  to  engage  in  a  good, 
hai'd,  game  of  football.  If  one  or  two  young  fel- 
lows, whom  I  have  met,  had  passed  through  some 
such  experience  it  would  have  lifted  a  fatal  handi- 
cap from  their  career,  and  it  would  have  saved 
their  social  circle  from  the  unnecessary  annoyance 
of  being  invaded  by  the  self-centred  behaviour  of 
undisciplined  natures. 

These  were  some  of  the  reasons  I  advanced  to 

[32] 


The    Father's    Reply 


your  mother  for  my  muusurecl  willingness  that  you 
should  join  the  university  team.  Oi"  course,  there 
are  dangers  to  be  avoided.  I  am  tliinking  now  of 
a  man  who  was  the  most  distinguished  athlete  of 
my  time.  While  he  has  a  magnilicent  physi(]ue,  he 
has  told  me  more  than  once  that  he  has  been  hundi- 
capi)ed  by  a  weak  heart  ever  since  his  college  days. 
His  muscles  are  like  steel  ropes,  but  his  organs  have 
been  weakened.  And  as  a  result  he  cannot  do  any- 
thing like  the  amount  of  work  some  other  men  can 
do,  who  were  much  less  brilliant  athletes  than  he. 
That  is  the  risk,  and  one  must  bear  it  steadily  in 
mind.  But  there  are  risks  in  crossing  the  sti'eet. 
Hundreds  of  people  are  killed  in  London  and  Kew 
York  every  year  in  the  attempt  to  cross  the  road. 
But  the  deduction  from  that  is  not  that  we  must 
always  walk  on  the  same  side  of  the  street. 

Before  I  close,  let  me  remind  you  to  be  prepared 
for  the  inevitable  reaction  after  a  game.  As  you 
never  let  the  kick  of  the  gun  blacken  your  shouldei', 
after  you  have  fired  a  shot,  never  let  the  recoil 
of  your  nature  after  a  furious  game  stain  your 
conscience. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[  •'^'3  ] 


Making    Friends 


IV 

MAKING 
FRIENDS 

Deae  Father  : 

You  are  more  than  kind  in  having  taken 
pains  to  explain  to  mother  the  legitimate  and  valu- 
able place  football  may  have  in  the  making  of  a 
man.  It  is  a  great  satisfaction  that  I  may  accept 
the  offer  made  to  me,  with  her  and  your  own  con- 
sent. And  your  letter  gives  me  a  more  complete 
sense  of  the  reasonableness  and  educational  value 
of  the  game.  I  was  not  particularly  keen  upon 
that  aspect  of  the  situation,  but  you  have  helped  me 
to  see  that  it  is  possible  to  try  to  work  one's  ideals 
into  that  phase  of  my  life  as  well  as  into  study. 
And  if  the  thing  is  done  honourably,  to  get  as  much 
out  of  the  one  sphere  of  effort,  in  its  owm  way,  as 
out  of  the  other  sphere.  I  promise  you  if  my 
studies  are  threatened  to  give  up  playing. 

I  am  fortunate  in  coming  across  some  unusually 
fine  men  here.  David  Seton  and  I  are  becoming 
more  and  more  congenial.  Ifis  personality  grows 
upon  me.  I  have  met  so  many  who  impress  me  as 
clean  cut,  sti'aight  fellows.  Of  coui-sc,  I  have  not 
seen  much  of  any  of  them,  but  tlie  impression  they 
have  made  upon  me  is  most  favourable.     I  sup})ose 

[34  J 


The    Son's    Letter 


one  ought  to  be  somewhat  careful  before  he  enters 
into  close  association  with  men  whom  he  has  not 
previously  known,  lest  it  should  a[)|)ear  later  that 
he  was  witlulrawing  from  an  intimacy  into  which 
he  had  rashly  entered.  That  would  be  awkward 
and  unpleasant  all  round.  I  have  determined  for  a 
time  not  to  rush  at  attractive  men  who  make  kindly 
overtui'es  to  me.  While  my  natural  impulse  is  to 
])lunge  right  into  associations  with  some  of  them,  it 
seems  more  just  both  to  them,  and  to  myself,  to  ap- 
proach them  very  slowly.  For  it  does  not  seem 
quite  right  to  become  intimate  with  a  man,  having 
him  come  to  one's  room,  and  walking  with  him,  and 
then  to  drop  the  intimacy  for  no  other  reason  than 
that  one  finds  out  some  idiosyncrasy  which  makes 
it  plain  that  we  could  not  get  along  congenially  to- 
gether. 

If  he  were  a  sensitive  person  he  might  think  of 
all  sorts  of  imaginary  and  erroneous  reasons  for  the 
suspension  of  friendly  overtures,  whereas  nothing 
had  taken  place  except  an  undue  haste  in  form- 
ing the  acquaintance  up  to  that  point.  And  the 
injustice  of  which  I  should  be  guilty  by  so  doing, 
might  in  the  same  way  be  visited  upon  myself. 
With  my  temperament,  it  would  be  a  trial  to  be 
dropped  by  one  whose  good-will  I  cai'ed  for,  witli- 
out  knowing  the  reason  for  it,  while  I  imagined 
every  kind  of  a  reason  except  the  right  one,  the 
only  cause  being  that  the  previous  association  was 

[85] 


Making    Friends 


premature.  An  experience  of  that  kind  would  drive 
me  back  upon  myself  and  break  my  conlidence  in 
myself  among  my  fellows.  For  I  have  an  absolute 
horror  of  pushing  myself  forward. 

I  wish  to  have  a  genial  bearing  towards  every- 
body with  whom  I  come  in  contact,  at  the 
same  time  putting  a  curb  upon  my  impetuous 
nature  which  would  urge  me  to  make  a  friend  of 
every  whole-souled  fellow  who  makes  advances  to 
me. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur: 

Your  attitude  towards  the  men  among  whom 
you  are  now  living,  of  which  you  write,  is  one  of 
the  greatest  importance  in  your  present  and  future 
career.  It  forms  a  vital  part  of  your  education. 
As  you  are  able  to  carry  yourself  among  your 
fellows  with  kindliness,  tact,  courage,  and  breadth 
of  view,  so  will  you  be  able  to  make  your  life  count 
in  whatever  sphere  you  may  enter.  The  man  who 
does  not  cultivate  sincere  and  genial  relations  with 
men,  not  only  cuts  himself  off  from  the  most 
satisfying  experiences  in  life,  but  he  ])uts  serious 
limitations  upon  his  usefulness  in  the  world. 

I  heartily  agree  that  you  should  go  very  slowly 
in  this  matter,  however.     Ikit  you  must  see  to  it 

I'M] 


The    Father's    Reply 


that  your  carefulness  does  not  chill  the  warm  im- 
])ulses  of  your  heart.  I  know  you  well  enough  to 
believe  that  you  would  never  become  a  cold,  or 
calculating,  worldling  in  the  choice  of  your  friends. 
Where  the  attitude  of  seeking  personal  advantage 
dominates  a  life  in  making  friends,  there  the  pos- 
sibility of  friendship  is  dwarfed  into  something 
which  is  only  the  mimicry  of  fiiendshij). 

Recognize  clearly  at  the  outset,  the  difi'erence  be- 
tween acquaintanceship  and  friendship.  One's  life 
ought  to  be  so  true  and  ])oised  that  he  can  enter 
cordially  into  contact  with  all  kinds  of  people. 
And  there  need  be  no  limitation  up(jn  the  number 
of  those  with  whom  he  associates  in  a  general  way. 
In  fact,  the  larger  the  number  with  whom  one 
trains  himself  to  mingle  in  a  human,  gracious  man- 
ner, without  surrendering  his  convictions  or  his 
self-respect,  the  richer  will  be  the  reflex  action 
upon  his  own  personality.  Some  personalities  are 
starved  through  the  lack  of  natural  contact  with 
the  world. 

One  must  never  expect  to  find  every  man  with 
Avhom  he  comes  into  casual  association  belong- 
ing to  the  type  which  he  delights  in  meeting. 
And  because  the  world  is  made  up  of  all  sorts  of 
people,  it  would  be  disastrous  to  shut  oneself  off 
from  all  those  in  the  world  who  are  not  congenial. 
Tt  would  not  only  im])overish  one's  own  personal- 
ity, but  it  would  be  an  evidence  of  selfishness  and 

[37] 


Making    Friends 


conceit.  Why  should  we  judge  everybody  by  our 
standard  ?  Why  should  we  frown  upon  our  fellows 
who  do  not  conform  to  our  estimates  ?  That  is  the 
essence  of  narrowness,  and  it  tends  to  harden  one's 
heart,  which  is  more  than  a  mistake,  it  is  a  tragedy. 
We  must  train  ourselves  to  feel  kindly  towards 
every  man.  And  it  is  not  enough  to  feel  it,  we 
must  learn  the  art  of  making  our  feeling  evident. 

That  is  an  artistic  aspect  in  the  making  of  a  man 
which  we  dare  not  neglect.  It  is  not  insincere,  it 
is  not  beneath  a  manly  man,  to  endeavour  to  trans- 
late kindly  feeling  into  a  gracious  bearing.  It  is 
of  the  utmost  importance,  if  Ave  are  to  make  our  full 
contribution  to  the  common  good.  It  is  an  essential 
part  of  true  manliness  to  take  pains  to  establish  a 
workable  point  of  contact  with  the  whole  world. 
And  if  we  do  not  feel  kindly,  we  must  simply  learn 
to  subdue  the  unkindl37^  impulses  which  have  usurped 
the  place  of  a  gracious  attitude. 

But  when  we  turn  to  friendship,  we  describe  a 
much  smaller  circle,  and  it  is  a  debatable  question 
as  to  how  small  or  large  it  should  be.  One  thing 
is  certain,  there  must  be  an  inner  circle  of  friend- 
ship; while  we  try  to  meet  all  men  witli  good-will, 
we  have  a  special  place  for  a  chosen  number.  One 
of  the  temptations  of  our  time  in  the  lives  of 
many  is  to  have  a  vast  number  of  acquaintances 
and  no  friends,  the  reason  for  this  often  being 
thoy  are  too  eager  upon  the  next  thing,  the  next 

[38] 


The    Father's    Reply 


advantage,  the  next  conquest,  to  have  time  to  culti- 
vate what  they  have  already  received. 

Friendship  is  a  beautiful  flower  and  it  requires 
careful  rearing.  It  will  not  grow  in  all  soils,  and 
it  will  not  blossom  if  it  has  not  a  clear,  open  space 
given  to  it  in  the  garden  of  life,  nor  will  it  1)0 
fragrant  if  it  is  forced  in  a  hothouse  of  feverish 
hurry.  It  is  at  your  time  of  life  you  must  cultivate 
friendship,  so  that  in  later  years  the  friendships 
made  now  will  live  upon  the  common  past  experi- 
ences of  youthful  association.  A  common  past  of 
youthful  memories  is  the  soil  in  which  the  rose  of 
friendship  thrives  best.  You  will  find  in  middle 
life  that  those  bonds  which  are  most  real  to  you. 
were  made  in  your  earlier  years.  As  you  grow 
older  the  capacity  for  making  friendships  will  con- 
tract, and  they  ordinarily  will  not  have  the  same 
vigour  and  depth  as  those  which  were  begun  during 
your  college  days.  The  present  is  your  sowing  time 
for  friendship  and  the  later  years  wnll  bring  you  the 
harvest.  This  is  the  general  principle.  Of  course, 
there  are  exceptions  even  to  such  a  principle. 

The  first  fact  in  the  growth  of  friendship  is  to 
have,  something  worthy  to  offer.  It  is  to  be  true 
in  the  core  of  one's  own  being,  to  be  true  to  oneself 
in  every  particular.  For  friendship  is  self-giving. 
And  if  there  is  to  be  a  harvest,  the  seed  that  is 
sown  must  be  sound,  incorruptible. 

After  personal  genuineness,  the  supreme  motive 

[39] 


Making    Friends 


must  be  to  give  something  rather  than  to  receive. 
Friendship  does  not  grow  by  feeding  upon  its  rights, 
but  through  being  inspired  by  its  opportunities  of 
service. 

You  must  be  slow  to  give  yourself  until  you  feel 
that  the  bond  is  being  formed  naturally.  For  true 
friendship  will  not  be  hurried,  and  to  be  impa- 
tiently too  eager  is  simply  to  behave  like  the  child 
who  digs  up  the  seed  out  of  the  ground  to  see 
if  it  is  growing.  The  hurried  act  has  arrested  the 
growth.  Let  sound  intuition  rather  than  hasty  im- 
pulse guide  you.  For  while  warm  impulses  are  not 
to  be  condensed  into  coldness,  they  must  be  regu- 
lated into  steadiness. 

Your  deeper  intuitions  will  inform  you  whether 
your  overture  is  welcome,  and  they  will  urge 
leisureliness  of  approach.  Bear  in  mind  hurry  is  a 
blight  upon  friendship  at  every  stage.  Hurry  lives 
in  the  future  rather  than  in  the  present,  and  is  dis- 
respectful towards  the  past ;  it  agitates,  and  vul- 
garizes the  inner  life.  And  consequently  it  cuts  at 
the  psychological  roots  of  the  tender  growth  which 
it  is  anxious  to  see  in  premature  blossom. 

Personally  I  have  not  cultivated  a  great  number 
of  close  friendships.  But  I  have  endeavoured  to 
give  some  time  to  my  friends.  And  I  feel  that  no 
man  has  been  more  richly  blessed.  P'riendship  re- 
quires thoughtful  attention  in  order  to  expei'ience 
it  at  its  best ;  it  is  therefore  in  the  nature  of  the 

[40] 


The    Father's    Reply 


case,  as  I  see  it,  impossible  to  bestow  the  consider- 
ation which  it  demands  over  an  immense  circle. 
But  every  man  must  decide  that  i)oint  for  himself, 
and  it  depends  upon  what  one  means  by  friendship. 

My  experience  of  its  meaning  is  a  man  to  whom 
I  may  tell  anything,  and  he  will  never  throw  it 
back  in  my  face.  One  who  will  not  take  immedi- 
ate offence,  or  become  resentful  of  an  appai-ent 
neglect,  trust  being  dominant  rather  than  suspicion. 
One  who  never  hurts  the  feelings  by  veiled  tlis- 
loyalty.  One  who  in  the  s[)irit  of  great  kindness 
has  told  me  of  faults  which  I  shoukl  not  have  dis- 
covered had  it  not  been  for  his  courageous  fidelity. 
One  with  whom  I  need  never  be  on  my  guard. 

To  play  the  part  of  a  friend  we  must  know  the 
meaning  of  loyalty.  There  will  be  no  contiden- 
tial  complaints  to  a  third  party  concerning  our 
friend.  He  may  hear  all  we  have  ever  said  about 
him  without  ill-feeling.  Even  when  we  may  not 
quite  understand  his  action,  we  must  not  change 
oui-  attitude  towards  him.  True  fi-iendship  docs 
not  live  in  the  s])irit  of  tit  for  tat,  either  openly  or 
secretly.  One  is  sometimes  terribly  tempted  to  live 
on  this  principle,  but  to  surrender  to  the  tempta- 
tion means  the  decay  of  the  tender  growth.  There 
will  be  moments  of  frank,  ])lain  speaking,  but  the 
friendly  spirit  will  save  the  situati(m  from  disaster. 
But  even  when  the  frank  utterance  is  resented  by 
the  other  man,  one   may  always  remain  true  in. 

[41] 


Making    Friends 


one's  spirit  to  him.  If  a  friend  should  cease  to 
remain  a  friend,  see  to  it  that  you  do  not  let  the 
milk  of  human  kindness  in  your  heart  become 
soured  by  the  thunder-storm  of  unbridled  anger. 
Do  not  allow  mean  and  bitter  thoughts  of  revenge 
to  have  any  quarter  in  your  mind.  That  is  the 
natural  history  of  a  narrowing  soul.  No  man  can 
experience  the  highest  meaning  of  happiness  who 
lives  on  that  level  of  life.  Besides,  such  a  spirit 
throws  one  out  of  human  touch  with  others  than 
those  towards  whom  he  feels  bitterly.  For  when 
one  encourages  a  mean  spirit  towards  any  man,  he 
has  weakened  his  relationship  towards  every  man, 
through  self-injury. 

Never  allow  j^ourself  to  feel  or  act  so  that  the  re 
newal  of  what  has  been  broken  has  been  made  per- 
manently impossible. 

Give  your  friends  of  your  best.  Because  restraint 
may  be  relaxed  in  their  presence,  that  does  not  im- 
ply that  they  have  not  clear  rights  to  the  good 
manners  which  the  world  demands. 

Friendships  have  been  jeopardized  by  careless- 
ness, as  well  as  by  tragic  misunderstandings. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[42] 


The    Son's    Letter 


SOCIAL 
SERVICE 

Dear  Father: 

Your  letter  confirms  me  in  my  judgment 
that  it  is  best  to  go  slowly  in  the  making  of  friend- 
ships. And  I  shall  not  forget  the  distinction  be- 
tween acquaintanceship  and  friendship,  and  what  I 
owe  to  both. 

I  have  been  asked,  with  some  other  fellows,  to 
take  a  hand  in  helping  on  a  boy  scout  movement 
among  the  lads  of  the  town.  The  idea  was  tjuite 
new  to  me ;  but  since  reading  something  about  it,  it 
seems  a  remarkably  sensible  scheme.  The  purpose 
of  the  organization,  which  has  grown  into  large 
proportions  in  England,  in  the  United  States,  ami 
in  other  countries,  is  for  the  purpose  of  engaging 
the  growing  lad  in  healthy,  open  air,  manly  games, 
and  pursuits  in  the  comradeship  of  his  fellows.  It 
is  to  secure  his  attention  from  mere  loafing,  or 
irregular  play,  and  to  direct  his  enthusiasm  into 
such  chaimels  of  useful  and  wholesome  enterprise 
as  would  naturally  appeal  to  him.  It  encourages 
an  interest  in  organization,  in  law  and  oi'der,  in  life 
in  the  open,  in  tramping,  cam})ing,  camp  cooking. 
It  provides  an  o})portunity  for  the  accurate  obser- 

[43] 


Social    Service 


vation  of  plants  and  birds,  and  for  telling  the  story 
of  what  is  observed.  The  spirit  of  the  movement 
is  emphatically  in  the  direction  of  manliness,  self- 
control,  brotherhood  and  patriotism. 

The  whole  thing  is  a  revelation  to  me;  it  opens 
up  so  many  avenues  of  endeavour  for  the  boy  who 
has  really  nothing  worthy  to  occupy  his  spare  time, 
as  he  roams  about  the  streets  with  his  companions, 
no  one  so  far  as  I  know  having  hitherto  thought 
through,  in  an  adequate  way,  the  problem  of  cap- 
turing his  latent  enthusiasm  for  wholesome  and 
uplifting  ends. 

This  movement  should  not  only  mean  a  new  era 
of  opportunity  for  the  boy  whose  club-house  is  the 
street  corner,  but  it  should  also  mean  a  new  type  of 
opportunity  for  young  men  like  myself,  to  throw 
their  interest  into  a  sensible,  human,  brotherly 
cause  for  giving  genuine  hel])  to  those  in  less  for- 
tunate circumstances,  I  am  not  talking  patron- 
izingly, not  by  any  means,  for  I  can  readily  see  that 
this  opportunity  will  do  far  more  for  me  than  any 
good  I  can  do,  if  I  should  become  an  officer  in  the 
local  corps. 

Even  the  thought  of  the  work  gives  one  a  new 
zest  in  living.  For  it  provides  a  rai'e  chance  to  get 
close  to  boys  at  their  own  game.  And  the  demo- 
cratic comradeship  which  it  makes  possible  is  just 
the  very  thing  that  thousands  of  follows  like  myself 
have  been  hungering  for.     Men  have  often  talked 


[44] 


The    Father's    Reply 


with  mc  about  lincliiig-  some  real  and  human  point 
of  contact  with  one's  fellows  of  another  class,  with- 
out stilted  and  artilicial  reserves,  where  enthu- 
siasm over  common  pursuits  would  wipe  out  all  lines 
of  social  demarcation.  The  boy  scout  idea,  so  far 
as  I  am  able  to  see,  is  a  stroke  of  genius  in  this,  and 
in  other  directions.  I  believe  it  is  destined  to  he!)) 
on  the  democratic  movement  in  the  best  possible 
way,  by  helping  each  to  get  the  point  of  view  of 
the  other,  by  clearing  up  misundei'standings  which 
have  been  born  of  ignorance,  by  revealing  how 
much  real  talent  has  lain  hidden  in  many  lives 
which  has  not  been  called  out. 


Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur: 

AVhile  1  am  convinced  that  service  should 
form  part  of  your  plan  of  education,  it  cannot,  in 
the  nature  of  the  case,  have  much  of  your  time. 

In  fact,  I  do  not  see  that  it  need  claim  a  great 
deal  of  your  attention.  Perhaps  a  cou})le  of  hours  a 
week  would  be  all  that  you  could  possibly  give  to  it. 

What  I  like  about  the  itlea  is  the  recognition  of 
the  principle  of  social  service.  It  is  not  the  amount 
of  assistance  which  you  are  at  present  able  to  render 
which  is  the  important  point.     It  is  that  you  should 

[45] 


Social    Service 


begin  to  weave  the  principle  of  service  into  your 
character.  Even  if  you  were  only  able  to  give  half 
an  hour  of  your  time  weekly,  my  contention  is  that 
there  is  a  far-reaching  educational  value  in  such  an 
attitude  towards  society. 

Good  causes  sutfer  greatly  because  some  peo):)le 
think  it  is  not  worth  while  to  offer  a  little  of  their 
time,  or  a  ver}^  little  money.  And  those  people 
suffer  as  well  as  the  causes.  Because  they  are  leav- 
ing one  of  the  most  enriching  of  opportunities  out 
of  their  education. 

Young  men  at  your  age  ought  to  have  the  habit 
of  serving,  and  of  giving  money,  inculcated  as  a 
part  of  a  liberal  education.  Tossing  a  coin  to  a 
cause,  without  the  recognition  of  some  principle  by 
which  it  is  done,  is  both  an  insult  to  the  cause,  and 
an  injustice  to  the  highest  interests  of  the  indi- 
vidual himself. 

The  culture  of  the  heart  is  quite  as  necessary  as 
the  culture  of  the  mind,  or  of  the  body,  or  of  the 
social  instincts.  And  it  should  not  be  postponed 
until  later  in  life.  I  do  not  see  why  a  college 
student  should  not  beo:in  to  have  an  unselfish  inter- 
est  in  the  problems  confronting  society,  as  well  as  a 
man  in  middle  life.  The  reason  why  so  many 
older  men  have  no  interest  in,  or  aptitude  for, 
social  service  is  because  they  had  no  ti-aiiiing  in 
that  direction  in  their  youth. 

There  may  be  a  great  danger  in  student  life  to 

[  ^<5  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


limit  one's  interests  to  those  things  which  concern 
students,  while  the  life  of  the  outside  community 
is  allowed  to  go  on  its  own  way.  But  it  seems  to 
me  the  town  should  receive  more  benefit  than  a 
financial  one  from  the  presence  of  a  large  body 
(jf  young  men  {preparing  for  places  of  leadership 
throughout  the  country.  Some  moral  injury  is 
occasionally  done  to  the  community  through  the 
social  irregulai'ities  of  a  comparatively  small  num- 
ber of  college  men.  Such  injury  must  be  offset,  so 
far  as  it  is  possible,  by  the  moral  enterprise  of  other 
students  of  a  different  type.  The  debt  which  ear- 
nest college  men  owe  the  community  is  a  very  real 
one,  ev^en  although  the  community  does  not  press 
for  payment.  It  would  be  a  terrible  indictment, 
if  it  were  true,  that  the  presence  of  students  in  a 
town  tends  to  make  that  town  worse  than  it  would 
otherwise  be.  I  do  not  believe  that  such  is  the 
case.  But  it  might  be  the  case  if  straight,  clean 
men  did  not  endeavour  to  offset  the  wrong  done  by 
weak  and  selfish  men. 

So  that  I  feel  very  strongly  that  young  men, 
having  convictions  such  as  you  possess,  owe  it  to 
the  community  to  take  a  hand  in  hel})ing  forward 
the  cause  of  progress  in  some  form  or  another. 
And  you  owe  it  to  yourself.  It  is  a  distinct  part 
of  your  preparation  for  larger  efforts.  Social  serv- 
ice is  something  for  which  we  should  all  be  trained 
in  heart  and  head  in  our  youthful  years. 

[47] 


Social    Service 


It  appears  to  me  a  false  view  of  happiness  when 
a  parent  says  of  his  son  that  he  should  not  be 
troubled  with  the  cares  of  the  world  in  his  vouth, 
that  there  will  be  plenty  of  time  later  for  such  con- 
cerns. That  son  might  find  some  of  the  happiest  ex- 
periences of  his  life  in  definite  social  effort ;  it  would 
help  him  out  of  himself  in  the  most  effectual  way. 

If  a  parent  brings  up  his  son  only  to  think  of  his 
own  advantage  and  pleasure,  he  has  himself  to 
blame  if  the  pleasure-loving,  soft  temper  in  his  son 
develops  into  insufferable  selfishness.  It  sometimes 
happens  that  a  youth's  life  hardens  into  an  alarm- 
ing indifference  to  the  feelings  and  interests  of 
other  people,  his  family  included,  simply  because 
he  was  encouraged  to  always  consider  himself 
alone.  The  motive  in  the  indulgent  parent's  heart 
was  to  give  his  son  a  good  time  before  the  more 
difficult  days  should  come,  whereas  he  was  in  reality 
preparing  his  son  for  defeat  at  tlie  hands  of  the 
stern  facts  of  life  by  soft  indulgence. 

The  practical  education  of  heart  and  mind  through 
some  form  of  social  service,  will  in  some  measure  guar- 
antee the  preservation  of  those  enthusiasms  which 
keep  the  spirit  from  being  suffocated,  or  bored,  by 
mere  creature  comfort,  and  conventional  living. 

Besides,  if  one  is  not  trained  early  in  life  to  culti- 
vate an  inteUigcnt  interest  in  the  welfare  of  others, 
bis  formal  interest  in  philanthropic  causes  in  later 
years  may  be  no  sign  wliatevei'  of  a  genuine  love 

[48  J 


The    Father's    Reply 


for  humanity.  It  is  quite  possible  for  the  heart  to 
ha.ve  become  hard,  even  while  the  mind  may  be 
engaged  in  human  problems  in  a  professional  way. 
Every  humaiiitai-ian  is  not  necessarily  humane. 

I  am  thankful,  therefore,  that  an  opportunity  has 
presented  itself  to  you  at  this  stage  of  your  career 
to  come  into  contact  with  one  of  the  vital  problems 
of  society.  And  the  o[)portunity  which  is  before 
you  is  one  of  the  very  best  in  which  you  could  en- 
gage. For,  as  you  have  said,  it  will  bring-  you  into 
touch  with  the  problems  of  youth,  of  the  poor,  of 
democracy.  It  will  widen  your  outlook  ;  you  will 
obtain  insight  into  a  larger  world  than  the  sphei-e 
in  which  you  Uve.  And  this  is  of  enormous  value, 
for  not  only  are  many  men  of  your  class  ignorant 
of  the  conditions  under  which  the  vast  majority 
live,  but  they  are  unconscious  of  the  reality,  the 
manliness,  the  intelligence,  which  are  hidden  behind 
the  sometimes  drab  exterior  of  the  surroundings  of 
the  toiling  poor.  And  if  we  are  to  enter  upon  a 
new  day  of  social  solidarity,  it  must  come  through 
a  deeper  mutual  understanding.  The  narrow, 
insular  point  of  view  of  many  so-called  educated 
and  cultivated  people,  must  give  place  to  more 
cosmopolitan  sympathies.  Cultivate  the  broad  out- 
look up(jn  the  world.  Learn  to  appreciate  merit 
wherever  it  is,  whether  in  one  class  or  another,  in  one 
nation  or  another,  in  one  good  cause  or  another.  I 
hope   you  will    ;ihvays  be  intensely  ))atriotic,  but 

■    [  49  1 


Social    Service 


never  blinded  by  a  narrow  prejudice,  which  shuts 
out  the  rest  of  the  world  as  of  little  or  no  impor- 
tance, because  it  does  not  happen  to  be  that  small 
part  of  the  world  which  you  know. 

But  having  said  all  this  in  favour  of  your  taking 
a  hand  in  the  work  which  has  been  offered  to 
you,  let  me  emphasize  that  you  dare  not  get  too 
deep  into  it  at  present.  Your  studies  are  first.  It 
is  only  as  you  are  true  to  your  immediate  work 
that  you  can  present  a  true  manhood  to  any  other 
cause.  All  progress  must  be  from  the  centre  to  the 
circumference.  Guard  against  the  subtle  tempta- 
tion to  substitute  industry  in  a  sphere  which  may 
be  congenial,  for  application  in  the  sphere  of  study 
which  may  be  at  times  not  so  congenial.  If  you  go 
down  to  work  among  the  boys,  when  in  your  inmost 
heart  you  know  you  ought  to  be  at  your  books,  you 
fail  to  ring  true.  Others  may  not  detect  it,  but 
your  own  conscience  becomes  witness  to  the  fact 
that  by  so  doing  you  have  chosen  the  point  of  least 
resistance.  And  no  amount  of  plausible  argument 
can  alter  the  situation.  Every  hour  has  its  supreme 
duty,  and  it  is  oar  business  with  an  open  mind,  and 
a  courageous  will,  to  get  into  grips  with  that  duty, 
for  we  are  not  wholly  true  men  till  we  face  our 
second  task  with  the  power  which  we  have  received 
from  victory  in  the  one  nearest  at  hand. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[50] 


The    Son's    Letter 


VI 

A  MARGIN 
OF  TIME 

Dear  Father  : 

I  think  the  four  aspects  of  my  education 
})lan  are  clearly  before  my  mind.  But  I  am  be- 
ginning to  iind  out  already  the  difficulty  of  getting 
everything  into  my  programme  in  anything  like  an 
orderly  manner.  I  am  not  a  particulaiiy  punctual 
person.  It  was  only  on  Fi'iday  afternoon  that  a 
plan  for  a  walk  into  the  country  fell  through  be- 
cause I  was  late  for  the  engagement.  It  was  dis- 
covered that  we  could  not  reach  our  destination  in 
time  to  carry  out  a  proposed  visit  to  Seton's  cousin, 
and  catch  the  only  suitable  train  back. 

I  could  see  that  Seton  was  somewhat  nettled 
over  my  unpunctuality,  because  he  had  arranged 
with  his  cousin  that  we  should  reach  his  house  at  a 
certain  time,  and  he  had  to  telegraph  that  the  ar- 
rangement could  not  be  put  through. 

He  was  very  nice  about  it,  but  his  accustomed 
good  humour  had  a  hard  struggle  with  a  perfectly 
natural  feeling  of  irritation. 

I  was  in  the  gymnasium  and  forgot  the  flight  of 
time.  The  usual  excuse.  It  is  not  onlv  the  habit 
of  punctuality  which  I  would  like  to  cultivate,  but 
of  being  punctual,  without  making  a  fuss  over  it. 

[51] 


A    Margin    of   Time 


I  have  seen  men  who  tr}'^  to  be  punctual,  but 
they  do  it  in  a  cyclone  of  excitement.  I  would 
really  like  to  meet  my  appointments  promptly,  but 
without  doing-  it  to  the  tune  of  banging  bureau 
drawers,  and  slamming  doors. 

I  do  not  care  to  live  the  life  of  a  slave  to  my 
watch,  and  of  being  always  out  of  breath  in  the 
process.  You  may  remember  a  half-witted  man 
w^hom  we  boys  called  "  Trotting  Bob."  He  was 
alwaA^s  on  the  run,  banging  into  people  full  tilt,  and 
I  suppose  he  was  only  on  his  way  to  buy  a  box  of 
matches.  I  do  not  care  to  be  punctual  in  any  such 
fashion.  Keuben  Saunders  always  provoked  me 
when  he  wrote  to  me  at  school  by  signing  his 
letters  "  Yours  in  haste."  One  wondered  what  in 
all  the  world  he  had  to  hurry  about.  Others  have 
told  me  he  exhibited  the  same  nervous  hurry  when 
he  called  on  them.  He  was  always  going  some- 
where else. 

I  suppose  that  sort  of  thing  gets  to  be  a  habit, 
and  a  habit  which  is  kept  up  even  when  there  is  no 
occasion  for  it.  And  no  doubt  it  proceeds  from  a 
mental  attitude,  hurrying  to  the  next  thing,  before 
the  thing  in  hand  is  half  done.  The  things  which 
must  be  attended  to  during  the  day  demand  the 
habit  of  punctuality  in  my  life,  but  as  it  appears  to 
me,  leisurely  punctuality  is  the  habit  \vliich  is  most 
desirable,  the  ability  to  keep  the  bearing  of  the 
football   rush   out  of  common  life,  the  knack  of 

[52] 


The    Father's    Reply 


being  on  time,  without  letting  })eo])le  know  that  it 
has  been  a  life  and  death  struggle  to  do  it. 

1  would  like  to  come  down  to  breakfast  as  if  I  had 
had  hours  in  which  to  get  ready.  I  would  like  to 
sit  talking  with  a  man  in  his  room  with  an  atmos- 
l^here  of  composure  and  interest  which  would  indi- 
cate that  there  was  nothing  else  in  the  world  for 
me  to  do.  And  in  the  same  w^ay  to  work  hard  at 
my  studies  without  carrying  about  with  me  the 
odour  of  the  midnight  lamp.  My  desire  is  to  be 
on  time  for  everything,  but  to  do  it  in  such  a  w^ay 
that  shall  not  create  the  provoking  and  silly  im- 
pression that  I  had  to  be  sometliing  of  a  martyr  in 
order  to  achieve  it. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Aktiiur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

The  importance  of  being  on  time  did  not 
powerfully  come  home  to  me  till  I  was  twenty- 
eight  years  old,  and  I  heartily  wish  the  lesson  had 
come  my  way  at  your  age.  Without  going  into 
specific  details,  the  rebuke  which  was  administered 
to  me  with  some  effect  was  most  graciously  done 
by  a  great  man  wiiom  I  had  kept  waiting.  In  the 
kindest,  quietest  way  ])ossible,  he  showed  me  what 
disorganization  1  had  brought  into  his  forenoon  by 
my  action.     That  interview  sent  me  away  with  a 

[  .^3  J 


A    Margin    of   Time 


burning  hot  operation  going  on  in  my  mind,  and  it 
burnt  its  way  into  my  penitent  soul.  Like  every- 
body else  I  had  believed,  on  general  principles,  that 
unpunctuality  was  a  nuisance,  but  the  idea  had  not 
a  definite  grip  upon  my  conduct.  However,  on 
that  memorable  day,  I  saw  the  selfishness,  the  im- 
pertinence, of  not  being  promptly  on  time. 

One  has  simply  to  consider  for  a  few  moments  to 
see  that  the  habit  amounts  to  theft ;  our  lack  of 
consideration  may  steal  the  time  of  people  who 
have  not  a  minute  to  spare.  It  would  sometimes 
not  hurt  them  nearly  so  much  if  we  stole  their 
money.  Besides,  it  is  a  stab  at  the  legitimate  dig- 
nity of  other  men  when  we  do  not  meet  them  at 
the  exact  time  for  which  the  engagement  was 
made. 

We  criticise  people  for  being  tempted  to  lose 
their  temper,  but  it  often  is  one's  own  thoughtless- 
ness Avhich  created  their  temptation.  It  is  the  un- 
punctual  person  who  is  occasionally  responsible  for 
upsetting  both  the  plans  and  the  tranquillity  of  a 
whole  household,  or  a  com])any  of  friends.  Be- 
cjiuse  the  habit  is  not  looked  upon  as  such  a  dread- 
ful thing  as  lying  or  swearing,  it  is  allowed  to  run 
rampant  without  rebuke  amongst  peo})le  who  con- 
sider themselves  quite  correct. 

Nevertheless,  unpunctuality  is  a  gross  social  in- 
justice. One  could  not  make  some  men  angrier  if 
he  struck  them  in  tlie  face,  than  he  can  succeed  in 

[54] 


1'  h  e    Father's    Reply 


(l()in<^  by  keeping  them  waiting  after  the  agi-eed 
time.  And  while  a  i'rank  and  humble  confession 
of  one's  failing  is  something,  it  does  not  give  back 
the  other  man  his  l(jst  time,  or  perhaps  his  lost 
temper,  or  his  lost  train,  or  his  lost  lunch. 

Unpunctuality  is  one  of  the  most  prevalent  im- 
pertinences in  our  modern  social  life  ;  all  classes  of 
people  are  offenders,  religious  and  irreligious,  young 
and  old,  wise  and  unwise.  For  punctuality  means 
to  be  on  the  minute  and  to  make  sacrifices  in  order 
to  do  it. 

And  that  requires  not  only  a  good  watch  in  the 
pocket,  but  also  a  good  one  in  the  head. 

And  the  practice  has  to  do  not  only  with  en- 
gagements ;  it  applies  to  promptness  in  answering 
letters,  the  lack  of  which  is  sometimes  a  miserable 
form  of  cruelty.  Its  application  also  touches  the 
matter  of  prompt  payment  of  our  bills. 

"VVe  owe  the  principle  of  punctuality  not  only  to 
the  world,  but  to  ourselves,  and  to  our  own  woi-k. 
Without  a  rigorous  economy  of  time  one  constantly 
finds  himself  in  a  muddle,  thinking  he  has  far  more 
to  do  than  he  really  has,  while  the  people  who  are 
doing  the  world's  work  are  those  who  have  learned 
to  find  time  by  economizing  it. 

But  I  recognize  the  sanity  of  the  point  which 
you  make  in  regard  to  leisurely  punctuality — the 
attempt  to  be  punctual,  and  yet  to  give  no  sug- 
gestion  to  others   of    hurry,  and   heat ;   to  open 

[55] 


A    Margin    of   Time 


the  door  on  the  minute,  and  yet  not  to  bring  in  a 
wind-storm  which  tends  to  send  everything  flying 
at  the  same  time.  Leisurely  punctuality  introduces 
the  subject  of  margins  of  time,  as  one  strives  to 
have  a  margin  in  a  bank  account.  Margins  of 
time  in  the  life  of  a  day  act  like  oil  on  machinery. 
Insufficient  oil  may  cause  a  hot-box  on  a  train  and 
hold  up  everything  on  the  line,  and  an  insufficient 
margin  of  time  may  work  in  the  same  way  upon 
the  train  of  one's  engagements. 

One  should  plan  for  the  margin,  especially  in  the 
morning.  If  one  can  begin  the  day  in  a  leisurely 
fashion,  the  rhythm  of  leisureliness  may  go  on 
through  the  day.  It  is  like  starting  a  song  on  the 
right  key.  The  question  of  a  margin  of  time  be- 
tween the  hour  of  getting  up  and  breakfast  is  a 
matter  of  sufficient  importance  to  command  sound 
thinking.  There  sh(juld  be  a  margin  broad  enougli 
to  permit  everything  being  done  that  one  ought 
to  do  in  that  section  of  the  dav,  without  hurrv  or 
omission.  One  should  have  ample  time  to  dress, 
and  to  dress  so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  day,  not  the 
unshaven,  slovenly,  hurried  api)roach  to  the  break- 
fast table  which  is  an  affront  to  others,  as  it  is  a 
lack  of  respect  towards  oneself.  One  should  have 
time  for  private  devotions  which  are  not  hurried 
into  a  meaningless  repetition  of  words,  which  is  a 
mere  caricature  of  religion.  But  I  am  convinced  I 
need  not  counsel  you  on  this  matter.     The  morning 

[56] 


The    Father's    Reply 


margin  should  give  one's  life  the  accent,  the  tone, 
the  pace,  for  the  day. 

I  would  not  venture  to  say  how  much  time  you 
should  allow  for  your  margin.  You  know  what 
my  habit  is,  but  I  would  not  think  of  trying  to  force 
it  u})()n  you. 

The  important  thing  is  that  you  should  not  be 
driven  in  anything  you  do.  You  should  begin  the 
day  in  that  leisurely  way  in  which  I  saw  the  cham- 
pion ten  mile  runner  of  the  world  start  in  a  contest. 
His  easy,  unstrained  beginning  of  the  race,  while 
it  looked  like  a  disa]>pointment  from  the  spectator's 
point  of  view,  was  in  pai't  the  secret  of  his  victory. 

Concentrate  the  mind  upon  the  thing  in  which 
you  are  for  the  moment  engaged  as  you  begin  the 
day,  not  upon  the  things  which  are  coming  on  af- 
terwards. Keep  your  imagination  off  the  news- 
paper, or  from  the  letters,  or  breakfast,  for  if  you 
let  your  mind  fix  itself  upon  the  events  which  have 
not  yet  been  reached,  you  will  find  yourself  hur- 
rying towards  those  things. 

They  will  capture  your  thoughts  from  the  things 
in  which  you  are  engaged,  and  rush  you  through 
them  in  spite  of  yourself.  The  meaning  and  pur- 
pose of  the  margin  of  time  will  be  spoiled  by  a 
hurrying  mental  attitude.  It  is  not  a  period  for 
indolence,  for  mere  dreaming,  but  it  provides  the 
opportunity  for  a  leisurely,  self-possessed  approach 
to  the  day's  work. 

[57] 


A    Margin    of    Time 


The  margin  idea  should  have  a  place  at  other 
times  of  the  day  besides  the  morning  and  in  other 
concerns  besides  the  matter  of  time.  It  is  a  prin- 
ciple which  should  have  a  recognized  place  in  the 
use  of  money,  and  of  one's  physical  strength. 
There  should  be  a  margin  in  character,  in  the 
sense  of  moral  strength  and  dejjth,  reserves  which 
have  not  been  called  out.  It  is  the  maririn  idea  in 
character  w^hich  is  one  of  the  fundamental  secrets 
of  genuine  influence  with  men.  The  world  in- 
stinctively feels  it  when  there  is  a  latent  force  in  a 
man  which  has  not  been  ex])ressed,  a  solid  reserve 
fund  of  moral  capital,  which  may  be  called  upon  in 
a  time  of  emergency. 

And  w^hen  such  a  man  comes  calmly  to  his  ap- 
pointments on  the  minute,  giving  out  all  uncon- 
sciously the  sense  of  a  deep  hidden  reserve  of 
strength  slumbering  till  a  crisis  summons  it,  you 
are  face  to  face  wdth  a  leader  of  men. 


Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[58] 


The    Son's    Letter 


VII 

THE  MEANING 
OF  LIFE 

Dear  Father  : 

1  like  the  margin  idea,  and  shall  endeavour 
to  give  it  a  place  in  the  arrangement  of  my  time. 
But  after  all,  what  is  the  aim  beyond  the  margin, 
beyond  the  various  spheres  of  activity  which  should 
engage  my  attention  ?  What  are  my  efforts  driv- 
ing towards  ?  One  constantly  sees  splendid  motor 
cars  splendidly  driven  at  high  speed,  but  one  asks 
where  they  are  going.  Sometimes  the  people  who 
are  in  the  cars  could  hardly  answer  that  question. 
They  know  they  have  a  tine  turnout,  and  they  are 
bowling  along  at  an  exhilarating  pace,  but  while 
they  are  in  a  great  hurry,  and  everybody  gets  out 
of  their  way,  they  are  often  not  going  anywhere  in 
[)articular.  They  are  not  on  an  errand  anything 
like  as  important  as  would  appear  from  the  dust 
they  raise.     Is  my  case  like  that  ? 

I  want  to  carry  the  rational  idea  farther  than  into 
the  spheres  of  my  activity,  and  into  the  method  of 
approach  to  those  spheres.  I  desire  to  have  a  clear 
end  in  view,  to  have  the  feeling  that  the  whole 
thing  is  really  worth  while.  That  my  automobile, 
as  it  were,  is  going  to  some  point  in  particular,  and 

[59] 


The    Meaning    of   Life 

that  it  is  gloriously  worth  while  getting  there.  I 
do  not  wish  merely  to  be  in  a  procession  of  motor 
cars,  trying  to  get  ahead  of  the  others,  on  the  road 
to  nowhere. 

AVithout  meaning  to  be  censorious,  or  priggish, 
one  sees  so  many  decent  people  playing  a  game 
that  does  not  seem  to  have  much  common  sense  in 
it.  There  is  cleverness  and  breadth  of  interest  in 
it,  but  there  does  not  appear  to  be  any  aim  beyond 
the  thing  itself.  One  realizes  this  as  he  watches 
life  as  it  is  lived,  when  he  talks  with  people ;  it  is 
perfectly  plain  as  one  reads  the  newspapers.  There 
are  wonderful  inventions  ;  a  vast  conquest  in  scien- 
tific knowledge  has  taken  place.  Life  has  been  made 
so  much  more  comfortable  in  many  directions. 
Books  are  cheap,  everybody  reads  something,  every- 
body is  in  the  act  of  going  somewhere  else,  and 
more  quickly  than  ever.  But  what  I  want  to  know 
is,  what  is  it  all  about  ?  Is  the  end  in  view  any 
clearer,  is  the  motive  for  reaching  the  end  a  rational 
one  ?  Is  this  thing  which  we  call  modern  civiliza- 
tion really  as  glorious  a  thing  as  it  is  cracked  up  to 
be  ?  For  myself,  I  often  have  m}""  doubts.  And 
especially  when  so  many  different  theories  of 
everything  are  contending  like  wrestlers  in  a  ring. 

Even  here,  you  would  be  astonished  if  you  were 
to  listen  to  the  differences  of  view  exjiressed  upon 
almost  everything.  And  yet  after  all  the  differ- 
ences have  been  ex})ressed,  everybody  unites  in  doing 

[GO] 


The    Father's    Reply 


the  same  things  over  again  as  if  there  had  been  no 
(litference  of  sentiment  whatever.  Looking  at  the 
situation  from  the  outside  one  would  think  that 
everything  was  going  on  in  the  same  old  way. 
But  it  is  only  in  appearance.  There  are  question- 
ings beneath  the  surface,  there  are  silent  indications 
of  some  kind  of  change  going  on.  Eut  that  is  too 
much  of  a  problem  for  me.  I  shall  be  content  for 
the  present  if  I  can  put  reality  into  the  end  I  have  in 
view,  not  merely  in  regard  to  my  studies,  but  in  re- 
gard to  my  life.  You  said  my  education  is  for  the 
development  of  my  personality:  but  what  is  the 
development  of  my  personality  for  ? 

Your  affectionate  son, 
Aktiiur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

The  development  of  your  personality  is  for 
the  purpose  of  carrying  out  a  higher  end  than  you 
and  I  know.  We  are  part  of  a  great  plan  ;  there 
is  a  progressive  aim  at  work  in  the  world.  That 
plan  is  too  vast  for  any  of  us  to  see  it  steadily  or  to 
see  it  whole. 

It  is  a  scheme  which  stretches  out  over  the  whole 
world,  and  throughout  all  time. 

We  catch  glimpses  of  it,  occasionally,  as  we  catch 
glimpses  of  a  landscape  at  night  during  flashes  of 

[61] 


The    Meaning    of    Life 

lightning.  We  see  the  progressive  movement  work- 
ing its  way  through  the  pages  of  history.  In  our 
own  time  we  feel  the  surge  of  its  tide  in  the  move- 
ments of  social  unrest  and  change. 

Sometimes  a  prophetic  character  interprets  mean- 
ing out  of  the  confusion,  and  noise,  and  strife,  and 
enterprise  (jf  the  world.  He  makes  clear  the  des- 
tiny of  a  nation,  of  a  race ;  he  summons  the  indi- 
vidual to  see  his  place  in  the  cosmic  plan. 

You  and  I  are  to  try  to  lit  our  lives  into  the  vast 
]->rogressive  plan  which  is  being  unfolded  by  the 
Divine  mind.  It  is  for  us  to  bring  ourselves  into 
such  an  attitude  of  heart  and  mind  as  to  be  able  to 
understand  our  marching  orders.  To  be  able  to  in- 
terpret the  whispers  from  the  eternal  world  which 
we  may  hear  if  we  listen  attentively.  It  is  in  the 
quiet  of  our  willing  souls  we  hear  those  whispers  of 
that  message  which  gives  our  life  its  true  aim  and 
direction,  rather  than  in  the  noise  and  opposing  ut- 
terances which  we  hear  in  the  world. 

It  is  this  inner  assurance  which  has  given  all  great 
and  true  men  their  fearless  indejiendence.  It  is 
tlieir  sense  of  having  become  obedient  to  a  summons 
which  they  have  heard  in  their  highest  moments 
of  self-elTacement  which  has  given  them  dii'ectnoss 
and  simplicity  of  purpose.  While  others  have  been 
lost  in  confusion,  and  broken  by  discouragement, 
they  have  kept  on  their  way  sometimes  amidst  crit- 
icism and  misunderstantling.     But  tlieir  consolation 

[62] 


The    Father's    Reply 


and  inspiration  have  come  to  them  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  liaving  in  some  measure  risen  to  the  chal- 
leno-e  of  God  for  their  lives. 

And  in  course  of  time  the  world  has  awakened 
to  see  that  those  men  were  the  pathfinders  of  its 
})ro<^ressive  life.  The  world  has  discovered  that 
they  were  original  contributors  to  })i'og-ress,  simply 
because  they  listened  to  the  voice  of  Him  who  is 
Himself  directing  the  campaign  of  progress  on  this 
planet. 

It  is  because  there  is  a  Divine  plan  for  our  liv<»s 
which  we  may  gras[),  that  you  and  I  engagi;  in 
our  private  devotions.  It  is  because  there  is  a  dis- 
tinct and  specific  j)Iace  which  you  and  I  may  fill 
that  we  wait  quietly  morning  by  morning  in  the 
secret  place  of  prayer.  We  are  listening  for  the 
voice.  We  are  listening  for  that  voice  to  interpret 
for  us  the  babel  of  voices  which  ascend  from  the 
world,  and  which  we  cannot  understand,  except  as 
the  spirit  of  God  makes  the  meaning  clear  to  us. 

The  acts  of  our  devotional  life  are  not  attempts 
to  placate  the  Almighty.  They  are  not  mere  weak 
overtures  for  favours  to  descend  upon  us.  They  are 
not  self-complacent  acts  of  supei'stitious  futility. 
When  we  pray,  when  we  read  the  Bible  in  the 
quiet  of  the  morning,  we  are  trying  to  bring  our 
natures  into  that  zone  of  spiritual  reality  whore  the 
voice  of  the  sjiirit  of  God  may  be  heard  calling  us 
to  play  our  part,  the  part  He  has  for  us  to  play. 

[03] 


The    Meaning    of    Life 

Not  any  part,  but  to  enter  into  our  own  distinct 
place  in  the  ranks  of  the  marching  thousand  mil- 
lions, who  are  passing  on  to  give  place  to  two 
thousand  millions  more  who  shall  have  their  little 
day  of  opportunity  to  try  to  rise  to  their  destiny. 

It  is  a  sublime  chance  which  we  have  day  by 
day,  this  waiting  upon  God. 

The  idea  has  been  cheapened,  and  degraded,  and 
made  ridiculous,  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  by  nar- 
row, and  conventional,  and  barbaric  interpretations. 
But  after  all,  it  stands  for  the  most  transcendent  of 
all  realities.  And  it  is  what  this  weary  age  is 
waiting  for,  even  when  it  may  not  know  it.  It 
wants  to  hear  the  voice  of  God  in  the  midst  of  the 
institutions  of  human  society.  It  longs  for  a  Avay 
out  of  the  black  forest  into  the  clear,  open  spaces 
of  progress.  The  world  is  chagrined,  bitterly  dis- 
appointed, with  the  small  amount  of  solace,  of  satis- 
faction, of  zest,  which  it  has  wrung  from  invention, 
the  expansion  of  knowledge,  and  the  exploitation 
of  the  natural  resources  of  the  earth. 

The  world  is  dumbly  ciying  for  the  mind  of  God 
upon  the  way  of  life.  Many  rich  men  would  be 
willing  to  become  poor  again,  if  they  could  thus 
help  the  world  on  to  the  highi'oad  of  its  true  destiny. 
Many  wise  men  would  be  willing  to  become  as  little 
children.  Willing  workers  wlio  have  toiled  and  suf- 
fered under  the  burden  and  in  the  heat  of  the  day, 
for  the  betterment  of  human  conditions,  would  be 

[64] 


The    Father's    Reply 

ready  to  gladly  die,  if  by  dying  they  could  thus  coii- 
tribute  more  nobly  to  the  cause  that  is  graven  on 
their  heart. 

If  Jesus  of  Xazareth  were  lo  stand  upon  the 
earth  to-day,  calling  men  to  follow  Him  in  the  i)ath 
of  progress  and  peace  and  joy,  and  if  men  believed 
it  was  really  Jesus,  there  would  be  surrenders  of 
thrones  and  crowns,  of  wealth,  of  every  kind  of 
thing  which  the  world  counts  great.  There  would 
be  such  a  flocking  towards  Him,  to  stand  beneath 
His  banner,  that  the  human  mind  would  gasp  be- 
fore the  magnitude  of  the  revelation  of  the  i)ent-up 
longing  of  our  present  age  for  the  leadership  of 
God  in  human  alfairs. 

Ihit  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  spirit  of  Christ  is 
actually  on  the  liekl  leading  His  own  cam})aign  ; 
and  it  is  as  you  and  1  find  time  to  put  ourselves 
into  honest  and  uncalculating  relations  with  Him 
that  we  put  ourselves  in  the  way  of  finding  out  the 
meaning  of  life. 

And  it  is  as  human  society  is  willing  to  listen  to 
the  inner  voice,  and  the  interpretation  which  the 
inner  voice  gives  of  the  outer  jargon  of  voices,  and 
is  willing  to  follow  out  all  the  consequences  of  lis- 
tening to  that  voice,  that  humanity  will  have  a 
sense  of  the  satisfying  and  sublime  meaning  of  life. 

You  and  I  must  ask  the  question  as  to  the  mean- 
ing of  the  education  of  our  life  in  the  quiet  of  com- 
munion   with   (iod  ;  it  is  in  that  attitiule  we  lind 

[65] 


The    Meaning    of    Life 

ourselves.  It  is  there  that  the  spirit  and  mind  are 
informed,  inspired,  and  empowered,  and  without 
that  equipment  all  other  education,  all  other  achieve- 
ment, tumbles  into  the  scrap  heap  of  forgotten 
earthly  glory. 

YouK  Affectionate  Father. 


[66] 


The    Son's    Letter 


VIII 

WHAT  ARE 
HINDRANCES? 

Dear  Father : 

You  have  made  clear  to  me  that  the  mean- 
ing, the  purpose,  of  one's  life  must  be  found  out  for 
oneself  in  quiet  contact  with  the  realities  of  the 
spiritual  world.  In  seeking  to  come  into  vital  con- 
tact with  all  that  there  is  for  us  in  the  spiritual 
world  towards  the  informing  and  inspiring  of  the 
inner  life,  one  becomes  aware  of  some  delinite  or  in- 
delinite  influences  which  seem  to  stand  in  the  way. 

There  are  certain  things  regarding  which  I  am 
not  perfectly  sure  whether  they  injure  the  sensitive- 
ness of  the  inner  life  or  not.  You  have  demon- 
strated to  me  the  immense  importance  of  keeping 
the  inner  side  of  one's  being  in  a  condition  of  alert 
listening  to  inner  suggestion,  of  being  so  attuned  as 
to  catch  the  inspirations  which  come  upon  the 
higher,  flner  side  of  one's  nature. 

And  I  have  been  wondering  if  it  were  not  true 
that,  all  unconsciously,  one  may  be  permitting 
things,  harmless  enough  in  themselves,  to  deaden 
the  mental  and  spiritual  perceptions  against  grasp- 
ing the  higher  realities.  For  example,  there  was  a 
discussion  the  other  night   in  regard  to   smoking. 

[07] 


What    Are    Hindrances? 


Five  of  us  were  in  the  rooms  of  two  of  our  party. 
Two  of  the  men  argued  that  it  was  comforting,  hu- 
man, and  friendly  and  quite  harmless.  Two  others, 
puffing  away  for  all  they  were  worth,  contended 
that  on  the  whole  it  was  not  conducive  to  ph3'sical 
efficiency.  I  have  been  thinking  about  the  matter 
since.  Why  should  I  not  smoke  ?  I  have  heard 
men  speak  angrily  against  the  practice,  giving  rea- 
son after  reason  which,  from  my  point  of  view, 
were  not  reasons  at  all.  After  all  thev  said  there 
was  no  light  upon  the  subject.  It  was  not  argu- 
ment, it  was  sheer  prejudice. 

With  me  the  question  resolves  itself  into  whether 
it  handicaps  me  physically,  whether  it  in  any  way 
blunts  the  keenness  of  my  mind  at  times  of  the  day 
when  I  should  be  at  my  best.  Whether  it  lowers 
the  vitality  of  my  spirit  when  I  should  be  keyed 
for  action.  I  would  like  to  be  sure  whether  it  takes 
the  keen  edge  off  that  listening  attitude  of  the  inner 
life,  which  we  have  been  considering. 

For  it  appears  to  me  to  be  of  enormous  value 
that  one  should  find  out  those  things  which  fit 
him  or  unfit  him  for  true  living.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve it  is  a  question  that  this  or  that  is  wrong, 
simply  because  some  good  people  have  said  so. 
The  whole  matter  must  be  settled  upon  the  basis  of 
l^ersonal  efficiency  as  one  faces  his  work.  If  any 
habit  weakens  one's  economic  value,  then  it  must 
go.     If  anything  stands  in  the  way  of  one's  higher 

[68] 


The    Father's    Reply 


growth,  if  it  in  any  way  tends  to  deaden  the  inner 
sensibilities,  then  it  should  be  Hung  over.  But  I  am 
not  so  sure  that  smoking  is  one  of  those  things. 


Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur: 

You  are  anxious  to  eliminate  the  things 
which  may  hinder  the  efficiency  of  your  life.  You 
wish  to  keep  the  inner  side  of  your  nature  keen  and 
sensitive  so  that  it  may  respond  to  the  s{)iritual 
realities  which  inform  and  inspire  it.  You  have 
resolved  to  i)art  with  whatever  benumbs  or  weakens 
your  power  of  self-expression. 

And  you  bring  up  the  smoking  habit  as  illustra- 
tive of  one  of  the  things  which  may,  or  may  not, 
stand  in  the  way  of  your  being  at  your  best.  You 
are  not  sure  whether  it  is  a  hindrance  or  not. 

I  would  not  discuss  this  matter  with  you  if  you 
were  a  mature  man. 

The  day  is  over  when  any  one  can  have  influence 
by  saying  a  thing  is  wrong  without  giving  adequate 
reasons.  No  question  should  be  settled  by  mere 
tyranny.  The  tyrant  is  not  a  conqueror ;  he  is 
simply,  it  may  be,  one  Avho  is  able  to  have  his  own 
way,  for  the  time  being.  And  there  are  some  good 
men  who  unconsciously  play  that  part,  and  greatly 
injure  tlu;  cause  they  have  at  heart. 

[  09  ] 


What    Are    Hindrances? 


I  do  not  insist  that  you  shall  not  smoke,  nor 
shall  I  bribe  you  by  offering  you  a  sum  of  money 
if  you  refrain,  as  some  far  better  men  than  I  have 
done  with  their  sons.  I  want  you  to  see  that  sub- 
ject, and  every  other  subject,  in  all  its  bearings, 
and  then  to  decide  for  yourself,  simply  on  the  score 
that  your  course  of  action  is  the  right  one,  and  for 
no  other  reason. 

The  first  point  which  I  would  put  before  you  is, 
why  should  you  smoke?  That,  it  seems  to  me, 
should  come  before  the  question  as  to  why  you 
should  not. 

What  is  the  motive  Avhich  leads  many  young 
men  of  your  age  into  the  habit  ?  Is  it  necessity, 
or  is  it  inclination,  or  is  it  the  influence  of  others  ? 
Is  it  a  desire  to  stand  in  with  others  for  the  sake 
of  their  kindly  estimate  and  companionship?  I 
simply  raise  the  question,  not  being  in  a  position  to 
give  an  accurate  answer. 

One  of  the  motives  for  smoking,  on  the  part  of 
mature  men,  is  the  desire  to  be  soothed  and  quieted 
after  the  strain  and  excitement  of  the  day's  work. 
They  find  the  habit  a  pleasant  occupation  in  the 
hour  of  relaxation  over  a  newspaper  or  in  conversa- 
tion with  a  friend. 

And  some  persistently  keep  the  habit  for  that 
hour  of  reaction  in  the  evening  when  the  ma- 
chinery of  life  is  cooling  down. 

Many  others  spread  the  habit  all  over  the  day. 

[  70  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


Of  course,  every  such  habit  tends  to  continually 
increase  its  demands  for  satisfaction.  And  it  some- 
times gets  such  a  grip  that  a  man  would  gladly  be 
rid  of  it  altogether,  but  he  has  not  the  courage  to 
face  the  sti-uggle  involved. 

One  should  be  careful  about  encouraging  a  habit 
which  may  become  a  tyrant,  and  an  enemy. 

In  the  case  of  a  very  young  man,  the  physical 
aspect  of  the  matter  should  have  serious  considera- 
tion. The  majority  of  physicians  would  agree  in 
saying  that  one  should  not  smoke  at  least  until  he 
is  full  grown.  If  there  is  such  a  weakness  as  the 
"  tobacco  heart "  in  strong,  mature  men,  it  is  easy  to 
see  the  danger  for  those  whose  bodies  have  not  yet 
come  to  their  full  maturity. 

I  understand  that  one  of  the  greatest  railway 
companies  in  the  world  insists  that  even  their  out- 
of-door  employees  shall  not  smoke  on  duty. 

What  is  the  effect  of  smoking?  Those  who 
ought  to  know  say  it  quiets  one  down.  Some  of 
them  find  it  takes  the  keen  edge  from  hard  think- 
ing, it  tends  to  reduce  their  aggressive  impulse.  It 
has  a  mildly  benumbing  effect. 

But  this  is  not  what  you  are  after.  You  are  not 
looking  for  something  to  turn  the  keen  edge  of 
your  mind.  You  are  not  seeking  a  comfortable 
sense  of  refuge  from  duty.  You  are  not  anxious 
to  have  the  icy  w^ater  of  the  day's  work  warmed  up 
before  you  take  the  plunge. 

[Tl] 


What    Are    Hindrances? 

Your  supreme  desire  is  to  maintain  the  alertness, 
the  wide-awake  energy  of  your  mind,  to  guard  the 
inner  side  of  your  nature  against  anything  that 
would  quiet  you  down,  instead  of  urging  you  on. 
You  are  out  to  get  the  keen  morning  air  in  your 
face,  not  the  soft,  warm  summer  evening  breeze. 
You  want  the  joy  of  offering  your  whole  being  to 
the  touch  of  every  reality  that  presses  upon  you. 

At  your  age  you  must  guard  against  everything 
that  would  tend  to  soften  your  manhood.  There 
are  practices  which  young  men  indulge  under  the 
guise  that  they  are  manly  when  as  a  matter  of  fact 
they  are  the  last  word  of  cowardice.  What,  for  ex- 
ample, is  the  psychology  of  the  drinking  habit  ?  Is 
it  not  an  attempt  to  get  away  from  the  raw,  blunt, 
hard  facts  of  real  life  into  a  soft,  dreamy  world  ? 
Or  is  it  not  in  some  cases  the  fear  of  being  chaffed, 
the  fear  of  being  met  by  the  patronizing  smile  of 
veiled  contempt  ? 

In  a  period  of  national  peace  and  great  pros- 
perity, for  which  every  true  man  is  thankful,  there 
is  a  strong  tem])tation  in  the  direction  of  softness 
of  character.  There  is  the  danger  of  setting  up 
false  standards  of  manliness,  which  are  only  cow- 
ardice in  disguise.  For  cowardice  can  talk  like 
heroism,  only  it  is  more  noisy  in  its  deckirations  of 
manliness.  Heroism  is  modest ;  cowardice  has  a 
swaggering  aii-.  But  when  the  testing  time  comes 
cowardice  is  sick  in  bed. 

[72] 


The    Father's    Reply 

I  rejoice  in  your  courageous  tlesii'e  to  retain  to 
its  fullest  extent  the  sensitiveness  of  your  nature  as 
it  listens  to  the  whispers  of  God  and  duty.  For 
that  attitude  is  self-expression  in  the  highest  sense. 
And  self-expression,  rather  than  self-sacrilice,  is  the 
highest  function  of  life,  but  self-sacrilice  is  always 
necessary  in  order  to  achieve  it. 

YouK  Affectionate  Father. 


[73] 


Healthy    M  inded  ness 


IX 

HEALTHY 
MINDEDNESS 

Dear  Father  : 

Since  it  is  your  set  purpose  not  to  coerce  me 
in  regard  to  what  I  shall,  or  shall  not,  do,  I  feel  it 
is  due  to  you  that  I  shoald  not  be  influenced  by 
those  who  have  only  the  merest  fraction  of  your 
experience.  It  would  be  rather  mean  to  ignore 
your  influence,  which  has  clear  rights  in  my  life, 
and  embrace  the  influence  of  any  of  my  fellows, 
which  has  no  such  rights. 

Besides,  I  am  convinced  that  whatever  has  the 
appearance  of  injuring  ray  efficiency  as  a  growing 
man  should  be  laid  aside.  For  as  it  appears  to  me 
there  is  a  new  puritanism  which  is  just  as  exacting 
as  the  old,  perha})s  more  so.  The  old  was  dog- 
matic, without  giving  clear  and  satisfying  reasons, 
the  new  is  scientific  and  in  the  interests  of  sound 
equipment  for  living. 

I  am  content  therefore  to  bring  my  life  under 
the  authority  of  whatever  points  the  way  to  a 
stronger  personality,  and  a  larger  grasp  u})on  the 
realities  of  life.  It  is  not  foolish  and  nari'ow  to 
keep  a  patient  who  is  suffering  fi'om  scarlet  fever 
away  from  those  who  are  in  good  health,  or  to 

[74] 


The    Son's    Letter 


keep  a  man  who  is  sulfering  from  typhoid  fever 
from  eating  everything  he  wants.  The  i-estriction 
is  based  on  recognized  law.  And  if  1  find  things 
which  are  right  enough  in  themselves,  and  in  their 
own  place,  coming  between  me  and  the  growth  of 
a  virile  manhood,  I  want  to  thi'ow  those  things  out. 
But  I  would  like  you  to  help  me  to  get  at  the 
rational  basis  of  the  problem.  1  may  have  an 
intuition  that  this  or  that  is  a  hindrance,  but  would 
also  like  to  know  the  reason  for  the  intuition.  I 
have  a  horror  of  being  in  any  way  fanatical,  and 
an  even  greater  horror  of  giving  myself  supei'ior 
airs.  So  much  so  that  my  tem})tation  may  be  to 
ajipear  rather  careless  among  my  fellows.  And 
while  that  may  be  a  form  of  hy})ocrisy  on  my 
part,  I  would  rather  be  guilty  of  it  than  surrendei' 
to  the  unctious  kind. 

It  has  appeared  to  me  that  the  dose  of  highly 
coloured  and  pungent  information  which  I  get 
every  morning  from  the  newspaper  is  not  the  best 
mental  appetizer  for  my  day's  work.  It  is  as  if  I  had 
started  into  dinner  with  a  highly  seasoned  pudding 
first,  and  had  no  appetite  for  the  joint  afterw^ards. 

You  may  think  this  is  all  nonsense,  but  I  really 
find  that  easy,  soft,  interesting  varieties  of  news 
tend  to  dampen  my  ardour  for  the  somewhat  stitf 
studies  which  I  have  to  face  during  the  first  hour 
of  the  college  day.  It  is  like  tasting  something 
SOU)'  after  molasses.     I  am  perfectly  certain  that  it 

[75] 


Healthy    Minded  n  ess 


requires  much  more  of  an  eifort  to  concentrate  my 
mind  upon  my  work  after  reading  short,  uncon- 
nected items  of  interesting  news,  put  together  in 
the  most  aduring  and  catching  way.  It  is  an 
easy  occupation  to  drift  along  from  one  thing  to 
another,  without  mental  eifort,  while  all  kinds  of 
unrelated  stuff  is  sliding  into  my  mind.  When  one 
comes  to  think  of  it,  it  is  an  awful  mixture  of  sights 
and  sounds,  of  yells  and  screams,  of  shocks  and 
caresses. 

But  besides  all  that,  it  seems  to  tend  to  wipe  out 
the  serious,  and  steadying,  and  ins})iring  im]ires- 
sions  of  my  quiet  time.  In  the  moments  of  silent 
reflection  certain  thoughts  are  written  down  u})on 
the  slate  of  one's  memory,  and  then  the  confused, 
sensational  story  of  the  world's  doings  are  written 
all  over  it,  so  that  the  shite  carries  no  message 
whatever  to  the  intelligence  except  disorder. 

The  mind  has  not  really  heard  its  marching 
orders  for  the  day.  It  has  not  been  keyed  to  its 
work.  The  tiling  seems  to  me  to  be  unscientific 
and  silly,  in  view  of  what  one  wants  to  accomplish. 


Your  affectionate  son, 

A  in  II  uu. 


My  deak  Artitttii  : 

I  am  a  firm  believer  in  the  newspa]icr,  and 
in  the  high  ediicationnl  value  of  respectable  journal- 

[7G] 


The    Father's    Reply 


ism.  It  is  the  only  available  means  oi'  current  in- 
formation for  the  community.  The  genuine,  honest 
ne\vs})aper  has  a  most  wholesome  i)lace  in  modern 
society.  Publicity  is  an  excellent  lash  for  wrong- 
doing, as  it  is  an  ins])iration  for  good  work.  The 
newspaper  helps  us  to  realize  our  sense  of  brother- 
hood with  the  larger  world.  It  may  be  the  most 
powerful  inspirer  and  educator  of  public  opinion. 
But  I  do  not  believe  it  is  necessary  to  read  the 
whole  of  it  at  any  time.  Newspaper  reading  is  a 
habit  like  every  other  habit  which  grows  as  it  is 
encouraged. 

For  manly  men  the  day  should  not  be  begun 
softly.  Just  as  the  shock  of  your  cold  bath  eveiy 
morning  gives  tone  to  your  body,  quickening  your 
circulation,  bringing  you  into  tune  with  the  keen 
air,  making  you  feel  how  good  it  is  to  be  alive,  so 
should  one  begin  his  mental  life  for  the  day.  I 
think  therefore  you  are  entirely  right  in  discarding 
the  newspaper  in  the  morning.  One  wants  to  have 
his  wits  sharpened  as  he  starts  out  to  his  work. 
And  the  mental  life  is  sharpened  by  being  challenged 
into  concentration,  by  having  the  will  summoned 
to  an  effort.  That  is  the  mental  equivalent  of  a 
cold  bath.  The  mind  shrinks  from  the  challenge, 
just  as  the  body  shrinks  from  the  cold  water,  but 
the  will  makes  the  body  take  its  insjiiring  dip, 
nevertheless.  And  the  will  must  make  the  mind 
take  its  cold  bath,  too. 

[77] 


Healthy    M  indedness 


We  require  something  in  the  morning  that  will 
set  the  mental  pace  for  the  day,  and  at  the  same 
time  preserve  all  the  higher  thoughts  and  whispers 
which  one  has  heard  in  the  silent  moments  of  quiet 
meditation. 

If  one  confined  himself  to  certain  parts  of  a  rep- 
utable paper,  such  as  the  editorial  columns,  or  any 
other  part  which  called  for  sustained  thinking, 
some  terse,  hard-headed  article  which  did  not  let 
the  mind  down  into  softness  there  would  be  no 
harm  done.  As  you  have  said,  it  is  the  uncon- 
nected, shrieking  information,  which  makes  no 
demand  upon  the  reason,  wiping  out  nobler  impres- 
sions, that  low^ers  the  tone  of  the  mind  in  the 
morning  hours. 

One  requires  mental  exercises  which  brace  and 
equip  the  personality  at  the  beginning  of  the  day. 
He  requires  clear  light,  guidance  and  power, 
in  order  to  make  the  most  of  himself  and  of  his 
work.  As  you  have  put  it,  it  is  a  mistake  to  have 
dessert  before  the  more  substantial  part  of  the 
meal,  not  only  because  it  turns  the  palate  against 
what  is  substantial,  but  it  tends  to  crave  the  same 
lijiht  fare  all  through  the  day.  The  mind  that  will 
not  endure  hard  discipline,  nor  practice  concentra- 
tion, is  always  looking  out  for  a  way  of  escajie 
from  duty.  It  is  always  seeking  the  point  of  least 
resistance.  It  has  a  habit  of  keeping  its  eye  on 
the  clock.     It  is  dreaming  of  a  good  time  at  the 


[78] 


The    Father's    Reply 


end  of  the  task.  It  hurries  througli  dilliculties 
without  solving  them.  Such  a  teni})er  of  mind  has 
no  joyous  delight  in  mental  ell'ort.  It  makes  study 
a  piece  of  dreary  drudgery,  and  llUs  the  sky  of 
one's  day  with  gray  clouds. 

It  is  therefore  only  common  prudence  to  i)lunge 
right  into  the  difficulties,  rather  than  to  listen  to 
the  pleadings  of  the  softer  side  of  human  nature. 
It  is  in  the  heroic  attitude  of  mind  that  the  joy  of 
work  becomes  a  reality.  It  is  in  facino^  work  as 
the  normal  business  of  the  i)assing  hours  that  peace 
is  createtl  in  the  depths  of  the  elemental  man, 
while  all  shirking  and  postponement  of  what  is 
difficult  tends  to  create  a  sense  of  indefinable  clieer- 
lessness.  Mental  cowardice  })roduces  uneasiness 
and  unrest.  And  he  who  practices  it  envies  in  his 
heart  those  who  have  resolutely  grap})led  with  the 
hard  facts  which  summoned  the  man  in  them. 

Moreover,  it  is  by  holding  the  mind  down  to 
hard,  consecutive  thinking  that  the  continuity  of 
the  spiritual  impressions  gathered  in  your  season  of 
meditation  in  the  early  morning  is  guaranteed.  For 
mental  concentration  is  the  highroad  upon  which 
the  spirit  of  God  enters  into  the  core  of  character. 
It  is  the  psychology  of  all  moral  strength.  AVhile 
unconnected,  fragmentary  thinking,  surrender  to 
one  impression  after  another,  which  have  no  under- 
lying relation  to  each  other,  is  the  psychology  of  all 
moral  weakness.     And  no  amount  of  feverish  activ- 

[79] 


Healthy    Minded n ess 

ity  can  make  up  for  that  weakness.  Ko  amount 
of  formal  devotion  to  the  forms  of  religion  can  make 
up  for  ignoring  this  fundamental  law  by  which 
religious  reality  enters  into  the  soul  and  into  the 
mind.  The  form  of  devotion  without  the  habit  of 
concentration  of  mind  following  it  up,  cancels  the 
effectiveness  of  devotional  exercises  both  in  personal 
character  and  work. 

That  is  one  reason  why  some  religious  people  are 
not  strong  personalities.  They  are  perfectly  sincere 
in  their  devotional  life,  and  they  make  sacrifices  in 
order  to  maintain  its  regularity  ;  they  give  ample 
time  to  it,  but  it  has  no  channel  along  which  to 
How  into  the  character,  and  into  the  facts  of  life. 

Concentration  of  mind  is  that  channel,  and  it  is 
only  as  it  is  maintained  unbroken,  unobstructed, 
that  the  energies  of  the  spiritual  world  can  enter 
into  living  contact  with  life  and  its  affairs.  It  is 
the  lack  of  the  habit  of  concentration  wliich  is  one 
of  the  supreme  causes  of  separating  religion  from 
conduct  in  the  experiences  of  many  well-meaning 
people.  Two  separate  water-tight  compartments 
are  created,  simj)ly  by  having  no  door  of  mental 
concentration  to  connect  the  inner  and  outer  aspects 
of  life. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[80] 


The    Son's    Letter 


X 

GENIAL  CONTACT 
WITH  THE  WORLD 


Dear  Father  : 

I  begin  to  see  that  nieiitul  vigour  and  con- 
centration are  the  means  by  which  the  personality 
is  kept  open  to  the  higher  inlluences  of  the  spiritual 
workl.  And  I  also  see  it  is  by  the  same  means  that 
pei-sonality  grips  the  facts  of  life. 

You  have  helped  me  to  grasp  this  principle. 
And  1  recognize  the  relation  which  such  things  as 
smoking  and  light,  unconnected  reading  and  other 
things  bear  towards  the  princii)le.  Nothing  that 
weakens  my  mental  vitality,  or  the  power  of  sus- 
tained thinking,  must  be  allowed  any  quarter  at  the 
beginning  of  the  day's  work.  For  it  is  the  elli- 
ciency  of  my  mind  which  is  the  point  of  contact  be- 
tween what  I  receive  from  the  spiritual  world  on 
the  one  hand,  and  what  I  give  to  the  tasks  of  the 
dav  on  the  other. 

I  shall  try  to  keep  the  idea  clearly  before  me. 
There  is  a  subject  suggested  by  wiiat  you  have  said 
whicli  I  would  like  to  discuss  with  you. 

It  will  not  only  be  necessary  to  keep  my  mind 
vigorous  and  tenacious,  but  to  let  it  have  more 
detinite  terminal  connections  with  the  outer  world. 

[81] 


Genial    Contact    With    the  World 

What  I  mean  is  that  I  am  sometimes  not  successful 
in  letting  the  finer  impulses  of  my  inner  life  out. 
For  example,  my  friend  Seton  said  the  other  day 
that  I  sometimes  acted  as  if  some  men  bored  me 
terribly.  He  named  one  or  two  in  whose  company 
he  said  that  I  acted  with  an  indifference  which 
bordered  upon  rudeness.  That  I  gave  the  impres- 
sion occasionally,  to  some  who  did  not  know  me,  of 
being  preoccupied  with  other  thoughts  rather  than 
with  what  was  being  discussed  at  the  moment. 
While  he  went  on  to  say  that  he  thought  I  was 
popular,  the  occasional  indifferent  bearing  of  which 
he  spoke  has  bothered  me.  It  was  exceedingly 
kind  in  him  to  bring  the  matter  up,  because  it  was 
quite  evident  from  the  way  in  which  he  spoke  of  it 
that  he  was  really  my  friend. 

However,  it  was  a  surprise  to  know  that  I  was 
guilty  of  such  a  practice.  I  might  never  have 
found  it  out,  if  it  had  not  been  brought  to  my  at- 
tention, and  it  seems  to  me  it  is  one  of  the  functions 
of  true  friendship  to  bring  such  a  failure  in  good 
manners  before  one,  if  it  can  be  done  in  the  gracious 
way  in  which  Seton  did  it  for  me. 

It  has  deepened  my  regard  for  him,  and  has 
shown  me  the  nobility  of  his  nature,  in  striking 
contrast  to  the  habit  of  telling  a  third  party,  and 
letting  the  truth  reach  the  offender's  ears  by  a 
circuitous  route.     And  when  the  message  arrives  it 

enters  into  one's  spirit  witli  the  bite  (^f  the  east  wind. 

[82  J 


The    Father's    Reply 


I  am  anxious  to  correct  my  rudeness,  all  the  more 
since  there  was  nothing  behind  it  except  thought- 
lessness. But  I  would  like  to  do  it  without  in  any 
way  becoming  self-conscious  in  the  process.  For 
there  is  a  danger  in  that  direction  which  would 
lead  one  to  over-emphasize  his  attention  in  listening 
to  others,  to  become  fulsome  in  expressions  of  ad- 
miration, and  altogether  exaggerated  in  manner. 
That  practice  must  strike  the  observer  of  it  as  arti- 
ficial, and,  in  a  measure,  insincere.  While  such  an 
estimate  of  exaggerated  manner  may  be  entirely 
wrong,  the  habit  of  extravagant  cordiality  might 
so  react  upon  the  character  as  to  produce  insin- 
cerity. i>ut  there  is  of  course  a  middle  way,  which 
is  neither  gushing  nor  frigid,  neither  self-conscious 
nor  thoughtless. 


Your  alfectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur: 

The  tendency  to  be  slack  in  one's  attention 
to  what  another  is  saying  is  simply  a  failure  to 
concentrate  the  mind.  It  is  a  bisection  of  thought, 
it  is  an  attempt  to  do  two  things  at  the  same  time, 
while  there  is  only  one  supreme  duty  at  any  one 
given  moment.  If  some  one  is  speaking,  it  is  our 
duty,  it  is  common  courtesy,  to  let  that  person  have 
our  undivided  attention  for  the  time  being.     It  is 

[S3] 


Genial    Contact   With    the   World 

disrespectful  to  be  in  an  attitude  of  mental  hurry 
for  the  next  thing,  or  to  be  thinking  back  to  the 
previous  thing  which  occupied  the  mind. 

And  it  is  part  of  the  duty  of  respectful  attention 
that  we  shall  be  able  to  show  our  interest,  that 
our  kindly  concern  shall  be  so  evinced  as  to  be 
evident.  There  are  people  who  give  their  minds  to 
the  people  who  speak  to  them,  but  they  do  not  give 
their  outward  expression.  Their  interest,  their 
sympathy,  is  not  in  their  eyes,  in  their  whole  man- 
ner. It  is  in  their  mind,  perhaps  in  their  heart,  but 
they  have  not  succeeded  in  the  art  of  self-expression. 

And  it  is  not  possible  for  others  to  know  of  the 
kindly  feeling  unless  it  is  made  plain  to  them  by 
kindly  manners. 

A  kind-hearted,  interested  person  may  be  con- 
sidered cold,  distant,  haughty,  simply  because  he 
has  not  cultivated  the  complete  outward  expression 
of  his  inner  life.  He  has  not  made  the  feelings  of 
his  heart  enter  into  his  hand-shake,  or  into  the 
muscles  of  his  face  producing  a  smile,  or  into  his 
eyes,  or  voice.  The  reason  may  be  because  he  does 
not  think  it  necessary,  or  worth  while.  Or  he  may 
be  quite  unaware  of  the  fact.  For  it  is  quite  possi- 
ble to  go  through  life  without  knowing  that  other 
people  consider  one  cold.  Every  friend  is  not  so 
courageously  kind  as  your  friend  Scton. 

In  my  judgment  it  is  not  only  worth  while  to 
continue  the  feelings  of  one's  heart  to  the  point  of 

[84] 


The    Father's    Reply 


complete  })hysiccil  expression,  but  we  owe  it  to  our 
fellow  men.  The  failure  to  do  it  has  not  only 
limited  the  influence  of  many,  but  it  has  been  the 
cause  of  heart-breaking  misunderstandings,  and  life- 
long distance  between  peoi)lo  who  might  have  been 
close  and  devoted  friends. 

Of  course,  outward  expression  may  be  overdone, 
it  may  be  insincere.  But  everj^thing  has  dangers. 
And  because  some  are  extravagant  in  their  self- 
expression  is  no  reason  why  others  should  refrain 
from  it  altogether,  or  remain  reserved  to  such  a  de- 
gree as  to  create  misunderstandings. 

And  it  is  that  kind  of  misunderstanding  which 
is  one  of  the  unnecessarily  heavy  burdens  which 
some  sensitive  spirits  have  to  carry  all  through 
life,  simply  because  some  of  those  with  whom  they 
habitually  come  into  contact  do  not  adequately  re- 
veal themselves.  It  is  that  frigid  attitude  towards 
them  which  drives  some  warm-hearted  people  int<3 
themselves,  killing  their  joy,  robbing  them  of  the 
kindliness  which  they  have  a  right  to  expect,  and 
which  they  would  rather  have  than  bread,  or 
])resents. 

And  the  pity  of  it  all  is  that  the  cause  is  very 
often  mere  thoughtlessness,  a  failure  to  link  up  the 
outer  channels  of  expression  with  the  warm  feel- 
ings of  the  heai't.  Such  carelessness  may  appear 
to  be  a  small  affair,  but  it  gives  rise  to  a  vast  deal 
of  pain  and  sorrcjw,  \vhich  might  easily  be  avoided. 

[85] 


Genial    Contact   With    the    World 

Our  whole  physical  bearing  was  surely  meant  to 
be  the  vehicle  of  the  expression  of  the  spirit  within. 
The  way  in  which  we  stand,  or  sit,  or  walk,  the 
substance  and  manner  of  our  speech,  should  reveal 
the  supremacy  of  the  will  and  of  the  concentrated 
mind.  We  were  taught  as  children  that  it  was  im- 
portant to  have  the  nails,  the  hair,  the  teeth,  the 
clothes,  in  such  a  condition  as  to  be  worthy  of  those 
who  respected  themselves.  It  cannot  be  less  im- 
portant to  carry  on  that  scrupulous  care  into  every 
detail  of  physical  expression. 

The  will  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  matter. 
It  must  be  summoned  to  grapple  with  moods,  and 
depression,  and  straying  impulses.  It  must  linish 
its  work  by  dominating  our  manner  of  speech,  as 
well  as  the  substance  of  it,  by  conquering  the  eye, 
and  hand,  and  muscle,  for  the  transmission  of  the 
messages  of  a  kind  heart  and  a  concentrated  mind. 

An  energetic  will,  a  disciplined  mind,  a  warm 
heart  are  the  psychological  factors  in  gracious  man- 
ners. And  believing  as  we  do,  we  owe  these  to 
everybody.  It  is  not  by  any  means  easy  any  more 
than  learning  to  paint  or  to  play,  but  it  is  enor- 
mously worth  while  to  try  to  bring  the  artistic  idea 
into  character  as  well  as  the  forceful  idea.  We  fail 
sometimes,  we  fall  short  of  our  ideal  all  the  time, 
but  "  to  be  conscious  of  a  limitation  is  to  be  beyond 
it." 

While  contending  for  graciousness  of  manners  to 

[86] 


The    Father's    Reply 


;ill  young  women,  tlio  chivalrous  young  man  will 
be  swii"t  to  recognize  the  border-line  between 
kindly  manner  and  over-familiarity,  llii  will  have 
an  intuitive  sense  that  he  owes  it  to  his  own  self- 
res})ect  as  well  as  to  the  feelings  of  every  woman, 
that  his  bearing  shall  be  such  as  he  would  have 
other  men  manifest  towards  his  own  sister,  lla  is 
under  an  imperative  obligation  not  to  be  the  means 
of  creating  a  misleading  imjiression  in  a  woman's 
mind,  nor  of  having  her  name  in  any  way  cheap- 
ened in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  He  owes  it  to  the 
man  who  may  one  day  claim  her  love,  that  her 
heart  and  mind  and  name  shall  be  unsullied. 


YouK  Affectionate  Father. 


[87] 


The    Management    of   Speech 


XI 

THE  MANAGEMENT 
OF  SPEECH 

Dear  Father : 

The  management  of  the  thoughts  is  not  an 
easy  task.  I  recognize  that  the  impression  which 
I  have  created  in  the  mind  of  some,  of  being  pre- 
occupied whilst  they  have  been  speaking  to  me,  was 
caused  by  a  lack  of  concentration.  But  I  find  it  to 
be  an  extraordinarily  difficult  matter  to  keep  my 
mind  fixed. 

I  constantly  find  my  thoughts  wandering  from 
the  theme  which  should  engage  my  attention. 
Sometimes  the  suggestion  which  captures  me  is 
merely  a  passing  sight,  sometimes  it  is  an  idea 
which  springs  from  I  know  not  where,  sometimes 
it  is  a  thought  of  which  I  am  ashamed.  For  while 
I  have  not  outwardly  done  an^^thing  of  which  I  am 
particularly  ashamed,  I  would  not  wish  to  have  all 
my  thoughts  written  out.  And  I  realize  that  it  is 
the  thought-life  which  is  the  storm  centre  of  char- 
acter. 

I  am  trying  hard  to  keep  my  mind  harnessed  to 
definite  ideas,  and  especially  in  those  fragments  of 
time  during  the  day  when  one  is  not  absorbed  by 
pressing  duties. 

[88] 


The    Son's    Letter 


I  am  endeavouring  to  retain  a  consecutive  line  of 
tliinking  straight  tlu'ougli  for  a  given  period  of 
time,  struggling  to  shut  out  all  irrelevant  sugges- 
tions which  come  making  their  appeal  for  consitler- 
ation,  and  which  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
the  subject  in  hand. 

I  find  that  in  taking  a  walk  it  is  sometimes  made 
more  enjoyable  when  I  try  to  hold  the  mind  steadily 
to  consider  the  train  of  thought  upon  which  I  had 
previously  been  reading. 

So  much  of  my  reading  has  been  forgotten  be- 
cause I  did  not  make  a  habit  of  mentally  going 
back  to  it,  to  brood  over  it,  to  reflect  u])on  it. 

In  the  attempt  to  practice  concentration,  I  have 
found  it  an  excellent  thing  in  the  periods  of  relax- 
ation during  the  day  to  commit  to  memory  some  of 
the  great  verses  of  the  Bible,  or  a  few  lines  of  poetry. 

It  is  a  great  aid  to  steadiness  of  thought.  Be- 
sides, it  acts  as  an  antidote  to  being  bored. 
I  have  often  been  dreadfully  bored  by  having 
nothing  definite  to  think  about.  And  it  was  just 
then  the  temptation  became  strong  to  get  into  mis- 
chief, to  do  something  that  would  create  an  exhil- 
arating relief  from  ennui.  But  stimulating  mental 
occupation  is  an  excellent  antidote  for  dangerous 
suggestions. 

I  believe  that  very  many  who  choose  what  is 
harmful  do  it  not  because  they  are  keen  upon  what 
is  wrong,  but  for  the  reason  of  not  having  any  in- 

[89] 


The    Management    of   Speech 

tellectual  resources.  They  have  not  cultivated  liv- 
ing in  the  realm  of  the  mind,  of  seeking  the  higher 
methods  of  satisfaction ;  they  have  not  persisted  in 
the  habit  of  companionship  with  the  treasures  of 
literature,  or  in  sustained  contact  with  some  problem. 

And  to  be  perfectly  frank,  the  higher  way  of  get- 
ting inner  satisfaction  has  not  always  seemed  to  me 
to  have  the  appearance  of  being  able  to  give  the 
greatest  amount  of  happiness.  Possibly  that  is  the 
reason  why  young  men  are  caught  in  a  trap  by 
the  lower  way. 

If  the  highest  use  of  the  mind  always  appeared, 
right  off,  to  offer  the  most  satisfying  results  there 
would  be  many  more  people  at  the  practice  of  it. 
But  it  is  so  often  the  other  way  about,  the  lower 
way  seems  to  promise  something  at  once,  something 
tangible,  something  without  effort,  and  men  are 
cruelly  caught  by  the  illusion. 

I  lind  it  takes  some  time  of  persevering  contin- 
uance to  really  see  for  oneself  how  much  more  sheer 
delight  there  is  in  the  highest  sustained  use  of  the 
thoughts.  And  while  I  liave  not  yet  made  much 
of  a  success  at  it,  it  is  clear  to  me  that  concentra- 
tion of  mind  upon  worthy  pursuits  is  the  highroad 
to  inner  peace  and  power. 

Before  closing  my  letter  let  me  make  a  confes- 
sion ;  it  will  be  a  relief  to  let  out  a  bitter,  torturing 
sense  of  having  been  guilty  of  a  gross  injustice. 
Some  time  ago  1  heard  an  ugly  rumom*  about  Caleb 

[90] 


The    Father's    Reply 


Short,  whom  you  may  remembei-.  Somehow  I 
never  liked  or  trusted  him;  well,  while  some  men 
were  discussing  him  the  other  day,  I  t(jld  the 
whole  miserable  tale  as  authentic. 

Since  that  time  I  have  been  informed  that  he  is 
not  the  man  of  whom  the  story  is  true.  My  in- 
formant had  made  a  mistake  in  the  name,  and  came 
to  me  to  correct  his  error.  In  the  meantime,  I  am 
responsible  for  having  passed  on  the  false  accusa- 
tion. I  shall  mend  the  matter  to  the  best  of  my 
ability,  but  what  torments  me  is  that  the  slander 
may  not  be  wholly  silenced. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Aktiiur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

When  you  say  that  the  lower  suggestion  of 
o])taining  enjoyment  often  comes  to  one  with  a 
more  persuasive  appeal,  with  a  more  instantaneous 
a])pearance  of  giving  substantial  satisfaction  than 
the  higher  use  of  the  mind  promises,  I  quite  agree. 

As  you  have  said,  it  takes  some  time  of  persistent, 
heroic  effort  in  the  highest  exercise  of  the  thoughts 
before  one  sees  and  feels  the  unspeakable  superior- 
ity of  the  one  way  over  the  other  way. 

The  determination  to  compel  the  mind  to  think 
upon  the  noblest  themes  does  not  always  carry  with 
it  the  immediate  ])romise  of  happiness. 

[  '>1   1 


The    Management    of   Speech 

One  has  to  steadily  remember  that  appearances 
in  this  matter  are  fatal.  The  lower  ways  of  an- 
swering the  hunger  of  the  spirit  come  before  the 
imagination  with  loud,  blazing,  enticing  promises  ; 
Avhile  the  promises  of  the  higher  ways  are  shy, 
quiet,  reluctant.  It  is  like  the  difference  between 
the  claims  of  a  quack  doctor  glorifying  his  nostrums 
into  magical  power  before  a  gaping  crowd  in  the 
market-place,  and  the  keen,  wise  specialist  who,  in 
the  quiet  of  his  consulting  room,  reaches  the  exact 
seat  of  trouble  without  gilded  talk. 

I  am  distressed  to  hear  that  you  have  spoken 
falsely  and  unwarrantably  about  Caleb  Short. 

I  do  not  know  what  you  have  said,  but  since  you 
are  rightly  suffering  as  a  result  of  your  action  it 
must  be  that  you  have  done  him  a  great  in- 
justice. 

Let  the  regret  burn  itself  into  your  soul.  Do  not 
spare  yourself.  It  is  only  as  one  lets  himself  have 
a  thoroughly  miserable  time  of  it,  that  he  is  likely 
to  be  cured  of  the  habit  of  unbridled  talk. 

There  are  times  when  one  must  speak  out  bravely 
what  he  knows  about  another  for  the  good  of  an 
institution,  or  for  the  public  good.  And  it  may  be 
a  very  disagreeable  task,  and  in  doing  it  one  is  apt 
to  receive  harsh,  unreasonable  criticism  and  enmity 
for  his  courageous  attitude.  The  satisfaction  one 
has  in  these  circumstances  is  that  his  motive  was 
high  and  clean,  and  he  is  perfectly  willing  to  take 

1  92  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


all  the  consetjiiences  which  fall  upon  him  as  the  re- 
sult of  liis  utterance. 

But  when  one  utters  dangerous  gossip,  and  all 
gossip  is  dangerous,  when  he  lets  his  tongue  loose 
u[)on  other  })eople  and  their  affairs  carelessly,  ma- 
liciously, or  merely  to  entertain  listeners,  then  we 
are  dealing  with  an  entirely  different  matter.  And 
I  gather  from  ^^our  letter  that  you  feel  yourself 
among  the  gossips.  It  is  one's  motive,  or  lack  of 
motive,  which  puts  one  in  that  class.  It  is  when 
there  is  no  genuinely  high,  helpful  purpose  served, 
or  intended,  in  talking  about  one's  fellows  that  he 
becomes  a  mischievous  person,  and  such  a  person 
makes  himself  a  social  disturber.  There  is  not  a 
sufficiently  strong  public  conscience  against  idle 
gossip.  If  it  were  branded  as  a  black,  base,  cow- 
ardly thing  there  would  be  less  of  it.  If  it  were 
part  of  our  social  code  of  honour  not  to  speak  of  a 
man  except  as  we  are  quite  ready  that  he  should 
hear  from  our  own  lips  face  to  face,  we  should  be 
approaching  manliness  in  speech.  It  would  be  a 
wholesome  thing  if  some  of  the  acid  were  poured 
into  the  word  "  gossip  "  which  we  find  in  the  word 
"  hyjwcrite."  But  that  time  has  certainly  not  yet 
arrived. 

The  unbridled  use  of  the  tongue  is  looked  upon 
as  a  mild  weakness.  The  practice  of  unrestrained 
speech  about  other  people  and  their  affairs  runs 
right  through  all  kinds  of  society,  religious  and  ir- 

[93] 


The    Management    of   Speech 

religious,  wise  and  ignorant,  rich  and  j^oor.  The 
practice  is  a  chronic  social  failing. 

Men  are  just  as  busy  at  it  in  their  clubs  as  women 
are  in  their  drawing-rooms.  And  it  does  more 
harm  than  a  war.  It  is  the  crudest  form  of  amuse- 
ment. People  who  would  be  shocked  at  the  sug- 
gestion that  they  should  take  part  in  a  prize-fight 
can  give  their  neighbour  a  stab  in  the  back  with  the 
rusty  blade  of  gossip,  working  thereby  far  more 
harm  than  a  straightforward  blow  in  the  face.  It 
is  quite  true  that  the  thing  may  be  done  through 
sheer  thoughtlessness,  with  no  really  malicious  pur- 
pose. And,  of  course,  thoughtlessness  is  not  so  low 
as  malice,  so  far  as  the  one  who  utters  the  remark 
is  concerned.  But  it  does  not  in  the  least  save  the 
situation  so  far  as  the  injured  person  or  the  world 
is  concerned.  The  point  is  that  the  deadly  work  is 
done  all  the  same.  The  unrestrained  utterance  is 
out,  and  it  thereafter  belongs  to  all  sorts  of  people, 
kind  and  unkind,  truthful  and  untruthful,  tactful 
and  tactless.  And  what  was  said  thoughtlessly  has 
gone  beyond  recall. 

Feeling  sorry  cannot  bring  it  back.  What  was 
started  as  a  careless  snowball  may  have  loosened 
an  avalanche,  working  untold  misery  on  its  swift 
journey. 

I  have  lived  long  enough  to  know  that  confi- 
dential remarks  about  others  are  more  than  a  mis- 
take, excei)t  in  very  rare  and  unusual  circumstances. 


The    Father's    Reply 


One  must  be  pi-epared  to  meet  his  coniidential 
statement  in  the  crowded  market-place,  and  pre- 
])ared  to  see  it  having  grown  huge,  almost  beyond 
recognition,  in  the  interval. 

I  am  thinking  now  of  a  man  who  always  makes 
his  remarks  coniidentially,  but  tJiat  is  only  his  pe- 
culiar way  of  informing  the  comnmnity.  It  is  a 
contemptible  form  of  gossi])  when  ungenerous  criti- 
cisms of  men  are  clothed  in  a  certain  tone  of  reluc- 
tant regret,  both  in  manner  and  voice,  so  that  the 
worst  kind  of  cant  is  added  to  cowardly  speech. 

Put  yourself  right  with  Short  in  the  wisest, 
uumliest  way  that  the  circumstances  permit.  Make 
up  to  him  in  full  measure  for  the  injustice  you  may 
liave  done.  Never  be  niggardly  in  your  apologies. 
And  let  the  incident  teach  you  a  lifelong  lesson  in 
tiie  heroic  management  of  your  talk.  Do  not 
speak  at  random  because  a  man,  or  a  company  of 
men  ex})ect  you  to  talk ;  have  the  courage  to  be 
silent  when  you  have  nothing  worthy  to  contribute. 
But  let  your  silence  always  be  as  kindly  as  your 
speech. 

Your  Affectionate  Fatiiek. 


[95] 


Concerning    Money 


XII 

CONCERNING 
MONEY 

Dear  Father  : 

I  trust  the  lesson  to  be  absolutely  fair  in 
talking  about  absent  people  has  been  learned.  But 
it  will  not  be  altogether  easy  to  put  it  into  practice 
for  there  is  so  much  discussion  of  in(li\iduals,  and  be- 
fore one  knows  it,  he  has  said  things  ^^'hich  he  wishes 
afterwards  he  had  left  unsaid.  But  I  shall  try  to 
keep  before  my  mind  the  injustice  of  which  I  have 
already  been  guilty.  While  in  the  future  I  may 
talk  less  about  people,  I  hope  what  is  said  may  be 
to  more  purpose,  and  less  merely  to  make  interest- 
ing conversation. 

Before  I  came  here  you  talked  over  with  me 
the  question  of  my  allowance,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
to  be  enough  for  all  that  would  be  required.  You 
said  that  you  were  anxious  that  men  in  poorer 
circumstances  should  not  have  their  lot  made 
harder  by  any  evidence  of  disj)lay  or  extravagance 
on  my  part.  You  were  strong  in  your  condemna- 
tion of  ostentation,  because  it  was  bad  for  me,  and 
it  worked  a  spirit  of  discontent  into  the  mind  of 
some  who  could  with  o^reat  difficultv  make  ends 
meet.     I    remember  vou  insisted  that  iov  one  to 

'  [  9G  ] 


The    Son's    Letter 


have  more  money  than  was  necessary  tended  to 
make  a  harmful  and  artihcial  distinction  between 
students,  where  no  such  distinction  should  exist. 
Tliat  it  gave  a  false  emi)hasis  to  the  })lace  which 
money  should  occupy,  and  tliat  such  emphasis  was  of 
the  essence  of  vulgai'ity.  What  you  said  I'econciled 
me  to  the  situation,  for  to  be  quite  candid,  while  1 
did  not  say  so,  I  thouglit  ])erhaps  my  allowance 
might  have  been  just  a  trifle  more,  especially  when 
I  happened  to  know  the  sums  which  one  or  tw<j 
other  men  were  receiving.  Then  I  also  knew  what 
you  gave  to  charitable  objects. 

But  when  I  com])are  what  you  give  me  with 
what  the  gicat  bulk  of  the  men  have,  then  I  feel 
myself  to  be  fortunate,  indeed.  And  I  am  now 
really  satisUed  with  the  amount ;  it  was  the  com- 
parison with  a  few  who  are  exceptional  cases,  which 
inspired  a  brief  disappointment. 

To  come  straight  to  the  point,  it  is  about  eight 
days  until  the  end  of  the  month,  and  as  I  have 
received  the  bills  for  some  things  which  I  bought 
last  week,  it  would  be  awfully  good  of  you  if  you 
will  let  me  have  my  allowance  a  little  eai-lier  than 
usual. 

I  am  frankly  a  little  ashamed  to  put  the  case  so 
bluntly,  but  I  do  not  feel  thei'e  has  been  any  wicked 
extravagance. 

There  have  been  no  bombastic  attempts  at  dis- 
play, and  while  I  i)robablv  get  more  than  what 


Concerning    Money 


eighty  per  cent,  of  the  men  possess,  I  have  exceed- 
ingly little  in  my  pocket. 

I  have  simply  not  kept  the  brakes  on,  and  the 
money  has  gone  without  a  great  deal  to  show  for 
it.  You  know  that  I  would  not  be  ashamed  to 
put  the  detailed  account  of  it  before  you  ;  all  that 
has  been  spent  has  been  in  perfectly  legitimate  wa3''s. 

I  ought  to  have  had  enough  in  hand  to  pa}'  the 
accounts  which  came  in,  but  I  haven't,  and  it  is 
difficult  to  remember  back  where  it  all  went. 

Let  me  say  (piite  honestly  that  I  do  not  desire  a 
larger  allowance,  but  would  a]>preciate  receiving 
my  check  a  little  earlier. 


Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

You  will  find  your  check  enclosed  herewith. 

Do  you  remember  the  words  Dickens  put  into 
the  mouth  of  Micawber  ?  "  Annual  income  £20  ; 
annual  expenditure  ;(^1 9-19-6  :  result  happiness." 

That  is  absolutely  true,  and  truer  than  it  may 
seem  to  you,  for  freedom  fi-om  anxiety  concerning 
money  should  leave  the  mind  free  and  clear  for  the 
day's  work. 

Before  you  left  home  T  went  carefully  over  the 
whole  matter  of  your  allcnvance.  T  remenibei'od 
what  I  received  under  siniilar  cii-cumstances.     It 

[98] 


The    Father's    Reply 


was  not  a  largo  sum  biiL  willi  great  care  it  was 
quite  enough.  I  was  not  denied  anything  that  was 
really  necessary  for  my  i)hysical,  mental,  or  social 
well-being.  Hut  there  was  not  much  of  a  margin. 
And  I  am  glad  to-day  that  it  was  so. 

In  your  case  I  took  mto  account  that  times  are 
somewhat  changed  since  my  day  ;  everything  is 
more  expensive ;  college  life  may  have  more  aspects 
of  perfectly  legitimate  interest.  I  made  ample 
recognition  of  these  facts.  And  I  talked  over  the 
subject  of  allowances  in  a  general  way  with  a  very 
sensible,  prosperous  friend  of  mine  whose  son  is  a 
recent  graduate. 


So  that  when  I  told  you  the  sum  you  were  to  re- 
ceive, I  was  convinced  that  it  was  just  and  right. 

For  it  appeared  to  me  that  you  were  to  be 
educated  by  the  proper  use  of  money  as  well  as  by 
books.  And  as  you  have  said  in  your  letter,  1  have 
very  strong  convictions  upon  the  pernicious  social 
influence  of  extravagance  and  display.  And  I  con- 
sider the  bearing  of  insolence,  and  of  aggressive 
superiority,  which  some  ill-bred  rich  people  culti- 
vate, to  be  a  menace  to  the  peace  of  our  social 
order.  It  is  an  intolerable  imposition  upon  our 
democratic  age. 

I  am  inclined  to  say  no  more  about  the  matter, 
lest  I  should  appear  to  invade  the  freedom  of  your 
own  mind,  in  the  solving  of  a  problem  which  must 
always  in  the  last  analysis  rest  with  yourself. 

\  i)9  ] 


Concerning    Money 


Your  allowance  is  lixed  for  this  year,  and  as  you 
say,  it  is  ample.  But  more  than  that,  you  must 
realize  that  there  is  no  financial  support  back  of 
that  allowance  on  which  you  may  rest.  Your 
total  wealth  for  the  year  is  exactly  the  sum  which 
you  receive  month  by  month,  and  not  a  penny 
more  or  less.  Your  imagination  may  not  call  up 
what  I  possess  when  you  incur  a  financial  obliga- 
tion. 

I  could  give  you  more,  I  could  pay  your  bills  if 
you  were  pushed,  you  know  that  perfectly  well. 
And  that  is  exactly  the  dangerous  point.  It  is  such 
knowledge  which  plays  havoc  in  some  young  men's 
lives. 

What  I  wish  you  to  settle  definitely  in  your  mind 
is  that  if  you  should  overstep  the  limit  of  your 
means,  to  that  degree  you  have  become  bankrupt. 
It  is  not  easy  for  me  to  take  up  a  position  of  this 
kind. 

It  would  be  much  easier  to  say  that  you  can  get 
whatever  money  you  wish.  But  I  dare  not  do 
that,  because  the  interests  of  your  life  are  far 
dearer  to  me  than  any  money  I  may  possess. 

Having  said  this  will  you  let  me  suggest  several 
things  which  ex[)erience  has  shown  me  to  be  of 
value  ?  And,  first  of  all,  if  I  were  you,  I  would 
keep  a  book  of  expenses  into  which  e\'erything 
should  be  entered,  and  I  put  the  emphasis  on  the 
word  "everything." 

[100] 


The    Father's    Reply 


It  is  not  because  1  would  like  to  see  it.  I  would 
not  look  at  it  if  you  were  to  bi-ing  it  to  me.  Our 
relations  with  one  another  are  not  on  that  level. 
AV^e  are  comrades,  who  wholly  trust  each  other. 
But  if  you  were  to  put  everything  down,  there 
would  Ije  a  great  satisfaction  at  the  end  of  the 
month  in  seeing  just  Ikmv,  and  where,  the  money 
went. 

Then,  too,  if  I  w^ere  in  your  place,  I  should  allow 
so  much  for  each  week  or  month,  planning  to  lay 
aside  a  certain  sum  for  unusual  ex})enses. 

There  is  nothing  in  which  s^^stem  is  more  neces- 
sary than  in  the  expenditure  of  money,  and  thei"e  is 
nothing  in  which  many  people  are  so  absolutely 
without  system. 

Your  present  predicament  reveals  the  result  of  it. 
For  weeks  to  come  I  suppose  you  will  have  to  put 
the  brakes  on  tight  in  order  to  get  back  to  normal 
conditions.  Let  me  also  say  that  it  is  not  fair  to 
tradesmen  to  keep  them  out  of  their  money  after 
it  has  been  earned. 

Those  men  have  usually  very  small  capital,  and 
their  peace  of  mind,  the  welfare  of  their  families, 
depend  uj)on  prompt  ])ayment  of  what  people  owe 
them.  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  you  knew  the  hard- 
ship wrought  in  a  poor  family  Avhen  bills  that  wei'e 
due  were  not  paid,  the  man  in  you  would  say : 
"  Never  so  l<mg  as  I  live  shall  I  be  guilty  of  such 
cruelty."    Because  those  men  say  nothing,  and  smile 

[101] 


Concerning    Money 


aAvay  with  an  air  of  indifference  your  apology  for 
tardiness,  bear  in  mind  that  all  the  same  the  iron 
may  have  entered  into  the  souls  of  their  children. 
That  silent  or  genial  bearing  of  theirs  is  partly  the 
way  in  which  they  must  retain  their  customers. 

The  practice  of  keeping  hard  earned  money  from 
men  and  women  which  is  largely  for  labour,  that 
has  been  performed  from  early  morning  till  late  at 
night,  accompanied  by  honest  sweat  and  fatigue, 
is  consummate  shabbiness. 

It  is  a  wholesome  discipline  to  go  without  some- 
thing one  would  like,  rather  than  to  act  unhand- 
somely  in  regard  to  the  payment  of  obligations. 

Some  of  the  keenest  joys  of  life  spring  from 
anticipation  rather  than  from  possession.  Many 
could  tell  you  this  has  been  their  own  experi- 
ence, especially  in  those  things  in  which  money  is 
concerned.  Besides,  let  us  never  forget  that  the 
nations,  or  the  men  who  have  had  the  hardest 
struffffle  are  those  who  usually  have  achieved  most. 
A  certain  amount  of  self-denial  in  some  form  or 
another  is  absolutely  essential  to  strength  of  char- 
acter. The  one  bears  a  direct,  vital  relation  to  the 
other.  It  is  part  of  the  natural  history  of  the 
inner  life ;  there  is  no  getting  away  from  it. 

Your  mother  told  me  that  in  one  of  your  recent 
letters  to  her  you  expressed  symjiatliy  for  the  hard 
financial  strugg'le  of  Marcus  Hardin,  the  son  of  the 
teacher  in  Latin  at  your  old  boarding-school.     My 

[102] 


The    Father's    Reply 


dear  boy,  if  I  judge  Ilai'din  rightly,  he  docs  not 
want  your  s^niijjatliy,  and  I  have  an  impression 
that  long  before  the  race  of  life  is  over,  some  men 
who  do  not  think  so  now  will  be  glad  to  acknowl- 
edge with  some  i)ride  that  they  knew  Hardin  in  his 
student  days.  There  is  a  force,  a  depth,  a  mental 
cleanness  and  tenacity  of  purpose,  developetl  in 
dilHcnlt  circumstances,  which  is  the  material  out  of 
which  success  is  made,  and  I  would  have  you  bear 
in  mind  that  Hardin  in  his  circumstances  is  in  the 
way  of  getting  a  iiner  culture,  a  truer  education, 
than  men  situated  as  you  are. 

Before  closing  this  letter  let  me  also  remind  you 
that  there  is  a  distinct  place  for  the  margin  idea  in 
money  matters,  as  well  as  in  the  use  of  time.  One 
who  has  all  the  money  that  is  good  for  him  must 
recognize  that  there  are  small  and  large  causes  be- 
yond his  personal  needs  which  have  a  direct  claim 
upon  him.  Because  these  claims  are  not  pressed, 
because  the  social  standards  around  him  do  not  make 
a  man  feel  ashamed  when  he  does  not  meet  them, 
does  not  alter  the  case.  For  a  true  man,  there  are 
debts  of  honour  to  the  poor,  and  to  the  organized 
efforts  of  good  men  on  behalf  of  th(3  ])rogress  of  the 
world,  which  one  ignores  at  the  risk  of  narrowing 
and  hardening  his  heart.  It  is  of  the  very  essence 
of  manliness  to  sevei'ely  check  one's  personal  ex- 
penditures so  as  to  have  as  liberal  a  margin  as  pos- 
sible for  causes  which  depend  upon   spontaneous 

[1U3] 


Concerning    Money 


individual  liberality.  It  is  not  a  question  of  one's 
mood  in  the  matter  ;  it  is  an  actual,  vital  part  of 
true  living. 

And  because  some  people  can  ignore  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  giving,  and  may  not  be  criticised 
in  any  way  for  it,  makes  it  all  the  more  a  debt  of 
honour  to  a  true  man. 

How  can  men  be  stewards  of  large  sums  of 
money  in  later  years,  if  they  have  had  no  training 
in  that  direction  in  their  youth,  if  their  hearts  and 
minds  have  not  been  exercised  by  jmtient  and  sym- 
pathetic interest  in  the  world's  noblest  work  ?  Such 
men  have  a  very  serious  lack  in  their  education, 
and  it  becomes  painfully  obvious  later  on,  when 
some  of  them  api)ear  to  be  quite  ignorant  of  the 
most  important  channels  along  which  their  money 
might  run  for  the  betterment  of  the  world. 

Because  a  young  man  has  only  what  he  considers 
a  small  margin  to  give  away  is  no  reason  why  he 
should  ignore  the  principle.  Great  causes  Hourisli 
on  Ions:  lists  of  small  amounts.  And  men  find  their 
moral  education  by  being  careful  to  give  their  small 
amounts  away.  No  amount  is  too  small  to  con- 
tribute, so  long  as  intelligent  interest  and  good-will 
go  along  with  it.  It  is  a  magnificent  training  for 
the  days  of  larger  things.  I  nevei*  like  to  hear  a 
man  say  that  he  would  do  a  great  deal  of  good 
with  a  large  fortune  if  he  had  it ;  thei'e  is  something 
hollow  about  the  utterance.     The  real  point  is  to 

[104] 


The    Father's    Reply 


give  what  one  has  to  give,  and  lu  do  it  with  the 
head  as  well  as  with  the  heart.  There  is  need  for 
training  among  young  men  to  give  with  intelli- 
gence, with  some  idea  of  system  and  proportion. 

It  is  (juite  possible  to  give  something  away, 
and  if  tliere  is  no  I'ecord  kept,  to  think  one  is  doing 
a  great  deal  more  than  he  really  does.  Some  men 
would  blush  with  shame  if  they  were  to  see  in 
black  and  white  how  little  they  give  away  in  the 
course  of  a  year,  in  proportion  to  what  they  spend 
on  themselves  and  their  families  ;  and  they  would 
feel  dishonoured  if  the  world  saw  the  statement. 

One  of  the  supreme  tests  of  a  man's  chaiucter  is 
what  he  is  willing  to  do  quietly,  and  unnoticed,  for 
individuals  and  for  tlie  causes  of  the  world,  as  they 
stretch  out  from  his  own  door  to  the  heart  of 
China,  or  India.  Let  us  never  forget  that  we  are 
in  training  to  be  Cosmopolitan  men,  learning  to 
have  the  breadth  of  a  world-wide  outlook  and 
sympathy,  and  while  charity  begins  at  home  it  has 
still  a  long  journey  before  it. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[105] 


The    Seat    of    Character 


XIII 

THE  SEAT  OF 
CHARACTER 

Deae  Father  : 

"While  I  recognize  the  complete  justice  of 
your  letter,  and  the  cordial  desire  for  my  highest 
efficiency  which  was  behind  it,  you  hit  me  awfully 
hard.  I  really  had  not  thought  much  about  the 
money  question  and  its  various  aspects.  Many 
thanks  for  your  check. 

I  have  paid  everything  I  owed,  and  shall  learn  to 
live  within  my  income  right  up  to  the  end  of  each 
month  in  future.  In  the  meantime,  the  economy 
that  will  be  necessary  through  the  coming  month 
will  give  me  a  new  appreciation  of  the  value  of 
money. 

And  beginning  with  the  folloAving  month  I  hope 
to  introduce  the  margin  idea.  I  fear  it  has  been 
woefully  neglected  in  my  case,  and  yet  it  is  a  prin- 
ciple which  one  recognizes  to  be  part  of  a  well- 
ordered  life.  But  it  is  with  me,  as  with  so  many 
others,  the  principle  of  giving  has  merely  received 
my  mental  assent  that  it  is  a  right  thing  to  do, 
while  the  actual  doing  of  it  has  been  })i'actically 
ignored. 

The  difficulty  is  to  have  the  grit  to  cut  off  a  slice 

[106] 


The    Son's    Letter 


of  one's  income,  and  to  lay  it  aside  for  good  causes. 
It  is  like  a  surgical  ()i)eration  ;  one  winces  under  it. 

But  I  shall  make  an  honest  attempt  to  turn  the 
idea  into  a  definite  practice.  However,  when  the 
sum  has  been  mentally  put  aside  the  next  difficulty 
is  to  know  to  which  causes  to  give  it. 

It  is  not  at  all  easy  to  know  where  to  begin  and 
where  to  end.  Of  course,  at  present  it  is  only  a 
theoretical  difficulty  with  me,  rather  than  a  prac- 
tical one,  for  the  practical  moment  has  not  yet 
arrived. 

At  the  same  time,  I  wish  there  were  some  large 
])lan  by  which  all  the  objects  to  which  one  should 
give  might  be  federated,  so  that  the  money  could 
go  to  a  clearing  house  and  be  divided  up  by  ex- 
perts. 

Still,  I  suppose  the  personal  element,  the  indi- 
vidual touch,  the  widening  of  one's  intelligent 
sympathy,  might  be  lacking  in  such  a  scheme. 

I  really  think,  however,  that  it  is  because  there 
are  so  many  objects  calling  for  money,  that  some 
]wople  are  confused  into  inaction  in  regard  to  every 
cause.  Some  others  find  the  multitude  of  demands 
])rovide  for  them  an  opportunity  and  excuse  for 
sliding  out  of  every  appeal  for  money,  an  oppor- 
tunity which  they  are  eager  to  embrace. 

If  there  should  exist  some  board  of  advice  to 
which  one  could  go,  and  having  obtained  it,  feel 
that  the  very  best  causes  were  thus  having  the  at- 

[  107  ] 


The    Seat    of    Character 

tention  they  required,  there  would  be  a  satisfaction 
in  helping  to  meet  the  whole  situation  at  the  foun- 
tainhead.  If  there  were  a  science  of  central  dis- 
tribution, there  might  be  a  great  deal  more  to  dis- 
tribute, and  not  so  many  people  would  be  able  to 
get  through  the  meshes  of  the  collecting  drag-net. 

As  it  is,  I  do  not  honestly  know  which  cause 
should  claim  the  bulk  of  the  little  I  shall  have  to 
give.  In  a  general  way  I  feel  that  the  cause  of 
religion  at  home  and  abroad  should  have  the  first 
claim,  on  the  ])i'inciple  that  religion  works  at  the 
very  base  of  the  progress  of  the  world.  But  even 
in  religion  there  are  so  man}'^  depai'tments  of  ac- 
tivity requiring  aid,  that  there  again  very  many  get 
out  of  giving  to  even  one  phase  of  the  situation  be- 
cause of  the  multiplicity  and  variety  of  the  appeals. 

For  the  present  year  at  any  rate,  I  shall  give  half 
of  my  little  margin  to  my  church  for  its  various 
schemes,  and  I  shall  give  the  other  half  to  other 
causes  with  which  I  mav  be  brought  into  contact, 
and  through  information  which  may  come  to  me. 

You  may  remember  Gerald  Fitzroy,  who  came 
to  our  house  occasionally  two  or  three  years  ago. 
He  was  always  a  most  likable  boy,  so  thoroughly 
kind-hearted.  Well,  it  is  common  knowledge  that 
he  is  going  sadly  wrong.  This  is  not  mere  gossip, 
and  it  is  not  in  any  spirit  of  eager  tale  bearing 
that  I  tell  you  of  it.  If  I  were  strong  enough, 
and  good  enough,  T  would  gi-eatly  like  to  hel])  liim. 

L  108  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


He  began  to  shun  his  friends  some  time  ago,  and 
now  his  friends  shun  liini. 

I  have  quietly  asked  the  strongest  and  most  at- 
tractive man  I  know,  an  older  man  than  I,  to  tiy  to 
get  into  friendly  contact  with  him. 

He  is  really  interested,  and  I  believe  he,  if  any- 
body, will  be  able  to  get  hold  of  Gerald, 


Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  d?:ar  Arthur: 

Your  remarks  regarding  Gerald  Fitzi'oy 
make  me  feel  badly  both  for  him  and  f(jr  his 
family. 

I  know  his  father ;  he  is  a  man  of  great  elevation 
of  character.  But  I  do  not  consider  his  judgment 
good  in  some  things,  as  I  ventured  to  tell  him  on 
one  occasion  when  he  was  discussing  Gerald.  He 
indicated  the  line  he  was  taking  with  his  son,  in- 
sisting that  he  w^ould  have  obedience  at  all  hazards 
and  in  matters  which  in  my  judgment  were  quite 
within  the  region  of  being  discussed  as  to  whether 
it  Avas  just  to  enforce  them.  I  told  him  that  as  I 
looked  at  the  case,  and  since  he  had  brought  the 
matter  up,  he  was  playing  the  part  of  a  policeman 
towards  (lerald  rather  than  an  adviser. 

His  father  has  tried  to  impose  his  will  upon  his 

[  109  ] 


The    Seat    of    Character 

son  without  trying  to  get  his  s})irit  and  reason 
to  cooperate.  The  father  has  endeavoured  most 
earnestly  to  make  Gerald  echo  his  own  sentiments 
by  mere  unreasoning  force,  instead  of  trying  to  help 
him  to  create  his  own  sentiments. 

The  result  is  that  the  young  man  has  no  convic- 
tions of  his  own,  while  he  has  been  brought  up  in 
an  atmosphere  of  strong  religious  example.  But 
it  was  example  where  hard  unbending  principle  was 
not  mixed  with  joy  and  a  sweet  reasonableness.  I 
su})pose  from  the  way  in  which  he  expressed  him- 
self to  me,  Mr.  Fitzroy  never  discussed  anything 
with  his  son ;  he  was  sim[)ly  told  to  do  a  thing. 
The  roots  of  his  life  were  not  fed,  his  own  mind 
was  not  taught  to  think,  to  arrive  at  conclusions 
for  himself. 

His  life  has  been  one  of  repression  rather  than 
that  of  healthy,  informed,  guided  expression.  He 
has  lived  as  an  automatic,  involuntary  echo  of  his 
forceful  father,  rather  than  as  a  persuadetl  and  con- 
vinced originator  of  his  own  actions.  Christian 
character  is  not  merely  correct  conduct ;  it  is  con- 
duct springing  from  the  depths  of  one's  own  per- 
sonality, as  it  has  been  inspired  by  the  realities  of 
the  Eternal.  Charactei'  in  oi'der  to  be  a  personal 
possession  must  be  the  outcome  of  a  })ers()nal  choice 
made  by  the  highest  elements  in  us.  One  may  do 
right  things  for  a  time  through  the  mere  impact  of 
another's  will,  as  the  im])act  of  a  locomotive  may 

Liiuj 


The    Father's    Reply 


send  an  attached  car  flying  along  the  railway  line 
for  a  time,  but  it  will  stop  presently. 

There  is  no  guarantee  of  moral  continuance  ex- 
cept as  morality  is  the  outward  expression  of  the 
inner  individual  man.  Mere  imitation  is  not  neces- 
sai'ily  character.  Just  as  iron  which  is  flung  into 
the  furnace,  comes  out  molten,  and  flows  flanung 
white  into  its  mold,  so  the  imitation  of  others  must 
pass  into  the  furnace  of  one's  own  personality  and 
come  out  molten  originality. 

The  whole  man  was  not  in  what  Gerald  did  ;  he 
did  not  act  from  the  elemental  base  of  his  nature. 
Tlie  forces  of  his  being  remained  raw,  soft,  and  un- 
disciplined, while  for  the  time  being  his  outer  be- 
haviour was  directly  by  outside  pressure.  As  a 
consequence,  when  that  outward  pressure  was  to  a 
certain  extent  removed,  and  the  untried  man  was 
called  upon  to  act  for  himself  in  difficult  circum- 
stances, his  Aveak,  untempered  powers  chose  the 
points  of  least  resistance.  And  the  unhappy  result 
is  as  you  have  indicated.  I  am  glad  you  have 
quietly  interested  an  older  man  than  yourself  who 
has  great  strength  of  character,  combined  with  a 
happy  enthusiasm  to  quietly  put  himself  alongside 
of  him.  After  that,  three  or  four  of  3'^ou  in  a 
natural,  human,  friendly  way  might  gradually  1)6 
able  to  draw  him  away  from  his  present  outside  as- 
sociations, and  so  provide  a  dift'erent  atmosphere  for 
him.     But  as  I  have  already  said,  it  is  the  exercise 

[111] 


The    Seat    of    Character 

of  his  own  powers  which,  on  the  human  side,  is  the 
only  thing  that  can  really  bring  Crerald  on  to  a 
liigher  level  of  life.  A  change  of  moral  atmosphere 
will  do  much  in  helping  to  stiuiulate  his  inner 
powers  to  act  for  themselves,  but  in  the  last  analy- 
sis, it  must  be  his  own  convinced  choice  of  the 
higher  type  of  living  which  shall  determine  his 
future  character. 

For  we  must  not  forget  that  genuine  living 
begins  in  the  direction  in  which  our  thoughts  move. 
It  is  possible  for  a  man  to  be  moving  towards 
moral  decay  whose  outward  life  is  apparently 
blameless,  if  the  direction  of  his  thoughts  is  not 
continually  upon  what  is  worthy  and  pure.  It  is 
in  the  thouglits  that  moral  changes  take  i)lace,  and 
when  we  hear  of  a  sudden,  startling,  moral  collapse 
in  a  life  which  had  been  hitherto  without  outward 
reproach,  that  collapse,  in  most  instances,  had  been 
going  on  in  the  thought  life  of  the  individual.  So 
that  it  is  of  the  greatest  concern  for  us  all  to  con- 
trol and  train  our  thoughts  to  rest  only  upon  what 
makes  for  cleanness  and  strength.  Every  moral 
failure,  of  which  we  hear,  is  a  summons  to  us  not 
to  play  the  part  of  the  Pharisee,  but  it  is  an  urgent 
call  to  inci'ease  our  own  vigilance  in  the  region  of 
our  secret  desires  and  imaginations. 

It  is  a  vast  mistake  to  think  we  are  so  much 
better  than  other  ])eo])le,  because  we  have  not 
outwardly  splashed   in   the  mud,   as  some  of  them 

[1V2] 


The    Father's    Reply 


have,  because  we  have  not  stained  our  outer  life. 
How  is  it  with  our  thoughts  ?  It  is  possiljle  to 
stain  the  imagination.  It  is  possible  to  weaken  the 
will  by  secret  surrender  to  base  im})ulses.  It  is 
possible  to  be  shamefully  defeated  in  the  battles  of 
life  without  the  world  knowing  anything  about  it. 
It  is  possible  for  a  man  to  retire  at  night  a  beaten 
coward,  because  he  had  not  called  out  the  reserves 
of  his  manhood  to  quell  the  im|)ulses  of  his  baser 
self.  It  is  when  the  imagination  is  permitted  by 
the  will  to  imagine  only  that  which  is  clean  and 
true,  it  is  when  the  secret  thought  life  is  made  to 
travel  into  regions  in  which  we  should  be  willing 
at  all  times  to  have  any  one  find  us,  it  is  only  then 
we  are  really  victorious  in  life. 

That  struggle  to  be  inwardly  true  is  the  foun- 
tainhead  of  manliness,  it  is  the  foundation  of  chai'- 
acter,  it  is  the  safeguard  of  conduct.  It  is  there- 
fore of  the  most  urgent  practical  value  to  have  the 
mind  busy  with  healthy  problems,  with  concerns 
that  demand  concentration,  with  mental  images 
that  purify  character,  and  give  tone  to  the  whole 
being.  This  is  especially  necessary  when  one  is  at 
leisure. 

Think  for  a  moment  of  the  number  of  hours  in  a 
single  day  in  which  the  mind  is  not  harnessed  to  a 
definite  task.  Consider  the  time  and  thought  that 
are  given  to  all  kinds  of  things  that  have  no  right 
to   usurp   a   single?   moment   of   our  attention.     If 

[113] 


The    Seat    of    Character 

those  thoughts  were  written  out,  the  reading  of 
them  would  sometimes  suggest  the  torn  up  frag- 
ments to  be  found  in  a  waste  paper  basket,  or  they 
might  suggest  the  disconnected  utterances  of  a 
maniac.  I  have  never  forgotten  what  my  univer- 
sity professor  in  philosophy  told  me  when  I  visited 
him  on  one  occasion  at  his  country  home ;  speaking 
of  this  ver}^  point,  he  said  that  he  never  went  out 
to  take  a  walk  without  having  some  problem  which 
he  discussed  with  himself. 

(Jf  course,  you  say  one  cannot  always  be  discuss- 
ing problems,  which  is  quite  true,  but  one  can  train 
himself  to  think  with  concentration  upon  definite 
objects  of  thought.  These  minds  of  ours  are  not 
libraries  in  which  golden  thoughts  are  stored  at 
one  hour  of  the  day,  and  mere  receptacles  for  rub- 
bish into  which  all  sorts  of  fragments  may  be  flung 
at  another  hour.  We  cannot  always  be  thinking  of 
the  same  things,  it  would  be  disastrous  for  our 
minds  if  we  did.  But  we  can  insist  that  our  minds 
shall  never  at  any  time  become  the  dumping  ground 
for  whatever  the  world  has  to  fling  into  them.  For 
it  is  when  the  mind  becomes  listless,  tired,  uncon- 
trolled, that  the  base  impulse  gets  a  heai'ing  and  a 
f(jotliold.  It  has  no  chance  when  a  man  is  hard  at 
work,  when  he  is  in  the  thick  of  a  game  of  football, 
when  Ills  whole  being  is  aglow  with  a  fine  entlmsiasm. 
At  such  a  time  the  wizened,  croaking  imp  of  sinister 
suggestion  is  seen  in  all  its  ghastly,  revolting  ugliness. 

[114] 


The    Father's    Reply 


It  is  the  vacant  hour  that  becomes  the  dread  crisis 
ill  the  inner  life.  lla[)py  is  the  man  \vho  when  he  is 
released  from  immediate  duty  can  call  up  memories, 
images,  schemes,  hobbies,  characters,  which  refresh, 
and  restore,  and  entertain  his  tired  brain.  Happy 
is  he  who  has  so  enriched  his  mind  that  he  can  call 
up  at  will  the  great  souls  of  history,  the  supreme 
characters  of  literature,  and  commune  with  them. 
Happy  is  he  who  has  so  learned  the  great  messages 
of  the  Bible  that  in  his  hour  of  relaxation  he  can 
receive  inspiration  and  wisdom  from  those  gi-eat 
passages  from  which  the  makers  of  our  civilization 
drank  as  from  a  crystal  spring. 

And  those  great  sources  of  mental  inspiration  are 
open  to  us  all,  and  never  so  wide  open  as  now. 
And  yet  after  all  that  is  gloriously  open  to  us  for 
the  cheering  and  strengthening  of  our  minds,  it  still 
happens  that  minds  are  dangerously  vacant,  ready 
to  listen  to  any  suggestion,  the  message  of  adver- 
tisements on  flaming  posters,  or  anything  else 
that  happens  to  capture  the  eye.  De])end  u})on  it, 
Arthur,  you  and  I  are  no  better  than  the  strength 
and  directitm  of  our  thoughts.  We  mav  let  them 
drift  into  the  muddy,  stagnant  pools  of  mere  incli- 
nation, or  we  may  by  the  heroism  of  our  will  lead 
our  minds  into  those  uplands  of  thought  where  the 
air  is  keen,  and  where  visions  of  truth  speak  to  us 
of  eternal  reality. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 
[115] 


Anxiety    Concerning    Influence 


XIV 

ANXIETY  CONCERNING 
INFLUENCE 

Deae  Father  : 

Ever  since  my  friend  Seton  informed  me  of 
my  failure  in  cordiality  towards  one  or  two  men  of 
our  acquaintance,  I  have  wondei'ed  how  far  that 
attitude  may  have  unconsciously  extended. 

I  have  since  been  doing  my  level  best  to  give 
myself  in  concentrated,  interested  attention  to 
everybody  with  whom  I  have  come  into  contact, 
and  realize  in  the  effort  how  deficient  I  may  have 
been  in  that  particular  in  the  past. 

The  experience  made  me  sensitive  as  to  my  stand- 
ing, it  has  made  me  wonder  whether  I  reall}^  had 
any.  When  some  one  answered  my  word  of  greet- 
ing in  an  apparently  cold  way,  or  did  not  appear 
to  see  me  across  the  street,  I  had  a  feeling  that  it 
was  resentment  for  some  previous  coldness  on  my 
part. 

I  confess  to  having  been  distui-bed  over  the 
possibility  of  being  misundei'stood.  For  it  is  only 
natural  that  one  should  desire  to  be  liked  by  one's 
associates,  especially  when  he  has  a  keen  fondness 
for  companionship, 

Some  mav  not  care  whether  people  like  them  or 

[  116  ] 


The    Son's    Letter 


not,  and  may  carry  themselves  with  increasing 
severity  of  manner  in  conse({uence,  but  I  care  a 
great  deal.  And  I  would  be  willing  to  make  veiy 
considerable  sacrifices  of  feeling,  consistent  with 
self-respect,  in  order  to  have  the  good-will  of  my 
fellows. 

I  sometimes  thought  that  perhaps  I  might  be 
unpopular  because  of  my  enthusiastic  admiration 
of  a  small  group  of  men,  who  are  considered  by 
some  to  be  altogether  too  strict  and  eai*nest  in  their 
mode  of  life. 

I  do  not  belong  to  the  group ;  I  could  not  con- 
sider myself  good  enough,  even  if  the  oppoi'tunity 
were  offered  me  to  enter  their  circle.  But  at  the 
same  time  when  they  have  been  discussed  and 
sometimes  criticised,  I  have  indicated  my  warm 
admiration  of  them. 

Then,  too,  it  had  been  coming  over  me  lately 
that  perhaps  my  secret  resolve  to  live  right  up  to 
my  convictions  in  every  direction  might  be  the 
means  sooner  or  later  of  throwing  me  down. 

It  was  therefore  not  so  much  a  satisfaction  of 
pride,  as  a  thankful  relief  from  a  chilling  suspicion 
of  unpopularity,  wdien  Seton  told  me  the  other 
day  that  he  heard  favourable  expressions  regard- 
ing me  from  various  quarters.  He  said  things  that 
surprised  me  greatly.  I  feel  like  kicking  myself 
for  writing  upon  this  soi-t  of  thing  even  to  you, 
but  it  had  taken  such  a  hold  of  me,  this  dread  fear 

[117] 


t 


Anxiety    Concerning    Influence 

of  being  shunned,  that  in  the  sense  of  relief  from 
suspense,  I  feel  impelled  to  tell  you  what  had  been 
passing  through  my  mind.  You  know  me  well 
enough  to  understand  that  this  is  not  written  in  a 
sjiirit  of  silly  conceit,  but  rather  in  the  spirit  of 
juiet  thankfulness  that  the  attitudes  of  aloofness 
which  I  fancied  were  after  all  the  creations  of  my 
own  imagination. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthuk. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

I  am  naturally  interested  in  your  social  suc- 
cess ;  it  would  hurt  me  to  learn  that  you  were  to  be 
a  failure  in  that  direction.  But  one  of  the  thing-s 
which  would  hurt  me  much  more  is  that  you  should 
purchase  popularity  at  the  price  of  your  convictions. 
It  would  be  sheer  cant  if  I  were  to  say  I  did  not 
care  whether  you  are  to  be  popular  or  not.  I  do 
care,  and  care  a  great  deal.  But  let  me  say,  with 
all  my  heart,  that  I  care  a  vast  deal  more  that 
you  shall  be  in  every  respect  a  manly  man,  that 
your  conduct  shall  be  governed  by  your  reason, 
your  conscience,  and  your  will,  at  whatever  cost. 
If  ]iopularity  is  not  to  be  yours  while  you  travel 
the  road  of  uncompromising  loyalty  to  what  you 
know  to  be  right,  then  I  am  content  to  have  it 
so.     And  I  shall  be  proud  in  the  knowledge  that  I 

[118] 


T  h  e    F  a  t  h  e  r  's    Reply 


have  a  son  who  is  l)rave  enough  to  accept  misunclei'- 
stantling',  and  even  derision,  rather  than  be  false  to 
his  highest  light. 

Never  forget  that  social  success  which  is  secured 
by  bartering  the  native  sincerities  of  personality  is 
the  very  worst  possible  bargain.  It  is  to  part  with 
the  crown  jewels  of  the  soul  for  broken  glass.  It 
is  to  lose  battles  gathering  straws.  For  when  one 
gets  any  a})})arent  advantage  in  any  sphere  of  life 
by  moral  surrender,  the  man  himself  is  degraded 
by  the  surrender. 

You  would  not  steal  something  which  you  might 
wish  to  possess,  you  would  rather  die  on  the  spot. 
So,  to  obtain  any  social  blessing  by  casting  aside 
high  principle  would  bring  the  transaction  down  to 
the  same  level  as  stealing. 

It  would  be  moral  trickery,  even  more  than  that, 
it  would  be  moral  suicide.  And  let  me  say  I  greatly 
doubt  whether  any  man  who  plays  fast  and  loose 
with  princii)le  can  ever  be  genuinely  popular.  De- 
])end  u]ion  it,  none  can  scent  reality  and  unreality 
better  than  young  men  such  as  those  with  whom 
you  are  associated.  They  know  shoddy  from  the 
real  article. 

When  some  one  is  foolishly  untrue  to  himself  in 
order  to  create  a  favourable  im})ression,  men  silently 
despise  him  even  as  they  look  into  his  face,  and 
they  puncture  his  weaknesses  when  they  are  among 
their  friends. 

[119] 


Anxiety    Concerning    Influence 

I  do  not  believe  that  tb(jse  who  must  have  social 
favour  at  any  price  ever  really  get  it ;  for  a  time  they 
may  seem  to  possess  it,  but  it  turns  out  at  last  to  be 
an  apple  which  has  crumbled  to  ashes  in  their  hands. 

My  dear  Arthur,  do  not  let  your  mind  rest  upon 
popularity  any  more  than  you  let  it  rest  upon  phys- 
ical growth.  You  are  six  feet  in  height,  and  you 
did  not  reach  it  by  worrying  about  it. 

It  came  by  concerning  yourself  with  wholesome 
food,  exercise,  work  and  sleep ;  nature  did  all  the 
rest.  You  grew  when  you  w^ere  unconcerned  about 
your  growth.  The  same  principle  operates  in  regard 
to  happiness.  Those  who  are  hunting  it  most  con- 
tinuously are  not  the  jieople  who  lind  it.  My  ob- 
servation has  showni  me  that  the  most  discontented 
persons  are  those  who  make  a  business  of  pursuing 
pleasure.  "Whilst  those  who  have  forgotten  all 
about  happiness,  and  are  working  away  with  en- 
thusiasm at  some  woi'thy  task  have  found  songs  of 
joy  rising  up  in  their  hearts. 

And  popularity  must  come  in  the  same  way. 
Do  not  let  your  mind  dwell  upon  it ;  forget  about 
it.  It  is  not  your  affair  to  create  popularity.  IJut 
it  is  very  much  your  concern  to  be  straight  and 
kind,  to  be  considerate  and  courageous.  That  is 
your  part  of  the  programme.  There  is  a  wise 
Providence  looking  after  the  other  ])art.  Do  not 
try  to  take  His  aspect  of  tlie  (jucstion  into  your 
hands.     The  burden  is  too  heavy  for  any  man,  and 

[120] 


The    Father's    Reply 


il  kills  some.  It  is  too  much  for  you  ;  you  will  spoil 
it ;  therefore  leave  it  alone.  Keep  steadily  to  y(Hii- 
own  task.  You  have  determined  to  live  up  to  your 
hiiihest  liMit.  That  is  all  there  is  to  be  done  in  the 
matter. 

Do  not  forget  that  influence  upon  others  is  a 
by-product  produced  from  singleness  of  pur))ose.  It 
is  created  indirectly.  It  rises  naturall}^  like  steam 
from  hot  water. 

The  people  who  exert  the  most  powerful  influence 
do  not  think  about  it ;  they  simply  do  what  they 
have  to  do  with  all  their  heart  and  mind.  They 
are  greatly  surprised  when  they  are  told  that  they 
are  regarded  highly. 

The  greatest  things  in  life  come  indirectly  ;  hap- 
piness, influence,  and  growth  are  all  examples  of 
the  wajrking  of  this  law. 

The  man  who  begins  to  worry  about  his  influence 
has  lost  his  road  in  life.  Of  course,  let  me  say 
here  there  are  some  so  low  in  their  moral  indiff'er- 
ence  that  they  do  not  care  about  their  influence. 
They  are  too  degraded  to  be  in  the  least  concerned  ; 
it  would  be  a  sign  of  returning  moi'al  health  if 
they  were  to  get  into  a  state  of  anxiety  and  shame 
over  how  they  appear  to  others.  But  I  am  not 
thinking  of  such  characters  now  ;  I  am  thinking  of 
those  who  are  living  true  and  earnest  lives,  and  at 
the  same  time  are  troubled  about  the  impression 
they  are  making. 

[121] 


Anxiety    Concerning    Influence 

AVhenever  one  who  is  living  up  to  his  light  be- 
gins to  try  to  manipulate  his  influence  with  others 
he  walks  into  a  dark  tunnel.  Why  ?  Because  he 
has  become  self-conscious.  And  when  a  man  be- 
comes self-conscious  he  begins  to  play  a  part.  He 
begins  to  pose,  and  he  may  even  have  a  high  motive 
in  it.  For  example,  I  know  a  man  who  tries  too 
hard  to  influence  people  for  good.  He  is  thor- 
oughly genuine,  I  believe.  But  his  over-anxious 
efforts  to  make  an  impression  for  good  have  af- 
fected the  tone  of  his  voice  ;  it  has  become  unctuous ; 
his  eyes  look  up  rather  than  straight  into  yours. 
His  manner  is  altogether  artificial.  Do  not  mistake 
me.  That  man  is  no  hypocrite.  But  he  has  taken 
the  question  of  influence  into  his  own  hands,  in- 
stead of  living  a  natural,  fearless,  manly  life,  leaving 
all  the  consequences  in  the  hands  of  God. 

The  result  of  trying  too  hard  is  that  there  is  a 
certain  oppressive  odour  of  forced  sanctity  about 
the  man.  His  smile  is  too  soft  and  sweet  to  be 
perfectly  natural.  And  as  a  consequence  of  the  at- 
mosphere which  he  carries  most  people  avoid  him, 
while  some  think  he  is  a  fraud. 

I  do  not  believe  anything  of  the  kind.  But  he 
illustrates  an  extreme  example  of  the  man  who 
worries  over  his  influence. 

Do  not  spend  time  upon  how  men  are  going  to 
take  an  action  of  yours  which  you  know  to  be 
right,  and  which  you  try  to  carry  out  in  a  gentle- 

[  122  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 

manly,  higli-iiiiiuled  way.  The  consequences  are 
not  your  business,  and  it"  you  make  them  your  busi- 
ness you  do  it  at  the  peril  of  twisting  and  contract- 
ing your  personality. 

If  social  success  is  to  be  yours  then  we  shall  both 
be  grateful  for  it,  but  if  it  is  not  to  be  yours  \vc 
shall  both  have  the  satisfaction  that  it  was  lost  in  a 
higher  cause. 

There  is  something  better  than  success,  and  that 
is  to  deserve  it. 

But  I  am  certain  the  men  with  whom  you  and  I 
come  into  contact  are  not  such  shams  as  to  cast  out 
one  who  is  brave  enough  to  be  true  to  himself,  and 
gracious  enough  to  accept  the  consequences  with 
genial  good- will. 

You  11  Affectionate  Father. 


[123] 


Larger    Meaning    of    Religion 


XY 

THE  LARGER  MEANING 
OF  RELIGION 

Dear  Father  : 

You  have  helped  me  to  throw  off  a  great 
burden  from  my  mind,  for  I  had  not  seen  anxiety 
concerning  one's  influence  in  the  light  in  which  you 
put  it. 

I  begin  to  realize  the  meaning  of  freedom  from 
fear,  regarding  which  you  spoke  to  me  on  several 
occasions.  For  when  one  is  living  conscientious!}^ 
and  shuts  out  from  his  thoughts  questions  as  to 
how  his  life  and  actions  appear  to  others,  there 
springs  up  from  within  a  new  sense  of  joy  and 
quiet  courage.  But  so  long  as  the  opposite  attitude 
of  mind  dominates  one,  of  always  imagining  criti- 
cisms, and  resentments,  on  the  part  of  associates, 
there  is  a  miserable  feeling  of  unrest,  and  of  slavery 
to  the  moods  of  those  with  whom  one  comes  into 
contact.  Your  idea  of  shutting  out  all  foolish 
imaginings  by  maintaining  a  manly  concern  as  to 
how  one  is  acting  towards  other  peo|)le,  instead  of 
fearing  and  suspecting  the  attitude  of  otliors  towards 
liim,  introduces  into  one's  life  new  experiences  of 
mental  cahn  and  poise.  I  am  entering  into  the 
happy  realization  of  it  already. 

[  124  ]' 


The    Son's    Letter 


There  is  a  question  whicii  lius  been  upon  my 
mind  to  ask  you.  Why  have  you  not  talked  to  mo 
more  about  rehgion  in  your  letters  ? 

1  have  looked  for  a  religious  message,  and  have 
been  surprised  that  you,  who  are  a  deeply  religious 
man,  have  not  written  to  me  on  the  subject. 

1  have  felt  there  must  be  some  good  reason  for 
it,  but  do  not  quite  know  what  that  reason  may  be. 

You  give  religion  the  first  place  in  your  own  life, 
to  such  an  extent  that  I  was  prepared  to  receive 
religious  counsel,  and  exhortation,  in  every  letter. 
And  it  was  your  custom  to  speak  to  me  about  it 
occasionally  when  I  was  at  home. 

Of  course,  it  is  true  I  had  a  definite  spiritual  ex- 
])erience  before  coming  to  college.  You  always 
insisted  that  you  were  anxious  to  have  Christianity 
become  something  more  to  me  than  a  mere  mental 
assent  to  certain  statements  of  belief,  before  I 
should  leave  home. 

You  contended  that  belief  should  become  a 
spiritual  reality  in  my  life,  to  some  degree  at  least, 
before  I  went  out  into  the  Avorld. 

Before  I  came  here,  as  you  well  know,  I  passed 
from  the  intellectual  ]ierception  of  Divine  realities 
to  a  spiritual  aj)])i'opriation  of  them. 

And  since  coming  here,  as  you  also  know,  I  have 
ke])t  up  the  habit  of  private  prayer,  the  devotional 
reading  of  the  Bible  and  attendance  at  church,  be- 
sides college  chapel  services. 

[125] 


Larger    Meaning    of    Religion 


But  while  all  that  is  true.  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
know  why  you  have  not  enlarged  upon  religious 
themes. 

Have  I  shown  impatience  at  any  time  Avith  any 
religious  counsel  you  have  given  me  ?  Or  do  you 
not  care  to  discuss  religious  matters  in  writina:  ? 

I  am  puzzled,  for  I  find  some  men  talk  much 
more  about  it  than  you  do  ;  yet  I  am  certain  they 
are  neither  as  good,  nor  as  efficient,  nor  as  useful, 
as  you.  I  find  weaknesses  in  a  few  of  them  whicli 
I  have  never  seen  in  you.  And  yet  they  are  per- 
fectly sincere  men,  in  fact  they  are  ready  to  suffer 
in  some  directions  for  their  outspokenness.  They 
gain  no  jiersonal  advantage. 

AVhat  is  the  meaning  of  the  difference  between 
them  and  you  ? 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  DEAR  Arthitr: 

You  ai-e  entirely  mistaken  when  you  say  I  have 
not  written  to  you  upon  the  subject  of  religion.  If 
you  had  said  that  I  had  not  discussed  at  length  one 
most  important  aspect  of  religion  you  would  have 
been  quite  c<jrrect  in  your  observation. 

I  have  not  said  much  to  you  upon  the  inner  side 
of  religion,  the  devotional,  the  believing  side. 
Why? 

[120  J 


The    Father's    Reply 


For  three  main  reasons.  Yivst,  because  I  kne^v 
you  ali-ead}'-  had  an  ex})erience  of  the  great  verities 
of  religion,  and  that  you  were  kee])ing  up  your  in- 
ner life  by  devotional  habits. 

JNFy  second  reason  was  on  account  of  the  fact  that 
we  have  discussed  on  previous  occasions  the  inner 
side  of  the  s})iritual  life,  and  you  have  my  thoughts 
on  that  subj(}ct  with  you. 

The  thirtl  reason  for  not  dwelling  upon  the  devo- 
tional side  of  the  inner  life  was  my  urgent  desire 
that  you  shcndd  ti-inslate,  into  your  ordinary  duties, 
all  that  you  learned  from  prayer,  the  stud>'  of  tlie 
Sci'iptures,  and  attendance  at  the  services  of  the 
church. 

lieligion  and  common  life  are  not  two  separate 
entities;  the  religion  of  the  inner  life  cannot  be 
separated  from  the  religion  of  the  outer  life. 

Religion  consists  not  only  in  prayer  ;  it  means  that 
the  man  who  prays  shall  also  keep  his  engagements 
with  his  fellow  men  to  the  minute,  it  means  that  lie 
shall  use  his  money  as  in  the  sight  of  God.  That 
lie  shall  be  cheerful,  chivalrous,  dependable.  It 
means  that  a  man's  conversation  shall  be  truthfid, 
kind,  and  wise.  It  means  that  his  time  shall  be 
wisely  planned  out,  and  used  for  useful  ends.  That 
his  mind  shall  be  concentrated,  his  thoughts 
marshalled  under  a  dominating  purpose. 

Religion  has  an  inner  side.  And  there  are  times 
when  it  is  of  the  highest  importance  to  talk  upon 

[127] 


Larger    Meaning    of   Religion 


the  glorious  realities  of  that  aspect  of  it.  In  fact, 
it  is  the  inner,  experimental  aspect  which  is  pri- 
mary. I  was  greatly  concerned  that  you  should 
let  the  Divine  presence  and  power  enter  into  the 
roots  of  your  nature  before  you  shonld  leave  home. 
Because  there  is  no  use  in  talking  about  fruit 
until  the  root  is  in  living  contact  with  the  soil. 
Nothing  one  may  do  is  spiritual  unless  the  inner 
life  is  spiritual.  That  is  why  a  man's  gift  of  money 
to  any  good  cause  is  estimated  by  the  world  ac- 
cording to  the  motive  that  inspired  the  gift.  A 
man's  inner  life  must  be  greater  than  anything  he 
does. 

I  knew  you  had  experienced  the  inner  side  of  re- 
ligion, and  would  experience  it  more  and  more  if 
you  were  diligent  in  practicing  the  outer  aspect  of 
it. 

For  the  outer  side  is  just  as  important  as  the  in- 
ner aspect ;  and  I  feared  lest  you  should  substitute 
religiosity  for  religion,  that  you  should  practice 
the  inner  function  of  religion,  but  neglect  to  trans- 
late it  into  actual,  common  facts.  I  have  longed 
and  prayed  that  you  should  have  a  Christian  mind, 
and  eye,  and  tongue,  and  hand,  and  pocket,  as  well 
as  a  Christian  soul. 

But  I  hear  you  say :  if  the  inner  side,  the  believ- 
ing side,  the  praying  side,  of  the  Christian  life  is 
ri<iht  will  not  the  ])ractical,  every-day  side  be  also 
right  as  a  natural  consequence  ? 

[12S] 


The    Father's    Reply 


My  answer  to  that  is  :  "  Yes  and  no,"  "  Yes," 
if  the  will  and  mind  cooperate  with  the  Divine  will 
and  mind  in  continuing  to  carry  out  into  actual 
living  wliat  has  been  whis})ered  in  the  soul.  "  Yes," 
if  one  realizes  that  devotional  practices  are  not  the 
end  of  the  religious  life  but  the  beginning;  that 
having  prayed,  the  spirit  and  mind  of  Christ  must 
flow  on  through  the  character  into  every  detail  of 
the  day's  life  and  work. 

"  No,"  if  the  human  will  and  mind  do  not  co- 
o})erate  in  the  process  of  allowing  the  Divine  mind 
and  will  to  have  a  chance  to  flow  out  into  the  com- 
mon incidents  and  experiences  of  the  passing  hours. 

The  spirit  of  God  within  us  will  not  usurp  the 
functions  of  the  human  personality.  He  will  in- 
spire them,  but  He  will  not  coerce  them. 

One  sees  people  who  seem  perfectly  sincere  in 
their  devotional  life  go  straight  out  from  it  all  into 
the  engagements  of  the  day  without  taking  the 
spirit  or  the  mind  of  Christ  with  them.  No  one 
w^ould  dare  say  that  those  people  are  conscious 
hypocrites.  The  trouble  is  they  are  earnest  largely 
on  their  inner  side.  They  are  the  victims  of  a 
partial,  broken  view"  of  religion.  They  have  their 
beliefs  right,  but  their  beliefs  do  not  get  much  of  a 
chance  to  open  their  purses.  They  are  faithful  to 
their  devotions,  but  not  to  their  appointments. 
Tlieir  prayers  seem  to  be  right,  but  theij'  spirit  is  not 
right  when  they  reach  the  breakfast  table.     And  no 

[  i2y  J 


Larger    Meaning    of    Religion 

amount  of  devotion  on  the  inner  side  of  life  can 
make  up  for  the  lack  of  it  among  the  outward 
facts. 

Do  not  think  that  I  put  more  emphasis  upon  the 
life  of  action  than  upon  the  life  of  secret  devotion, 
any  more  than  I  look  upon  the  fruit  of  a  tree  as 
more  important  than  the  root.  As  it  is  impossible 
to  get  fruit  from  trees  without  roots,  so  it  is  impos- 
sible to  obtain  Christian  character  without  being 
rooted  in  the  eternal  realities  which  produce  it. 

But  there  seems  to  be  a  terrible  temptation  to  re- 
fuse to  obey  the  spirit  of  God  within  us,  when  He 
urges  us  to  go  a  step  beyond  the  current  standards, 
and  sentiments,  which  we  fmd  around  us.  We  are 
willing  to  be  Christian  up  to  that  point  to  which  con- 
ventional opinion  says  we  must  go.  But  when  that 
point  is  reached  we  are  tempted  to  refuse  to  go 
further.  So  that  we  become  not  so  much  obedient 
to  the  spirit  of  God  as  to  a  certain  social  conscience. 

Life,  instead  of  going  progressively  forward  into 
moral  originality  and  progress,  goes  round  and 
round  the  same  circle  of  conduct.  There  is  no 
fresh  contribution  to  reality.  The  inner  devotional 
habits  are  not  made  the  ins])iration  of  outward  fear- 
lessness, and  fidelity,  but  they  are  often  made  the 
substitute  for  fidelity.  Just  as  if  an  engineer  were 
to  substitute  the  preparation  of  his  locomotive  for 
the  journey  it  should  make,  for  the  journey  itself. 

The  need  of  our  time  is  for  men  who  have  the 

[130] 


The    Father's    Reply 


root  of  the  matter  in  them,  to  progress  in  Christian 
conduct  beyond  the  frontiers  of  conventional  con- 
ceptions of  duty,  to  continue  to  be  obetlient  to  the 
spirit  of  God  after  they  have  reached  what  conven- 
tion requires.  For  the  s})irit  of  (lod  has  a  long  and 
progressive  programme  for  us  all,  which  lie  reveals 
liour  by  hour,  and  day  by  day,  to  all  those  who  are 
willing  to  continue  to  carry  the  mind  of  Chi-ist 
into  individual  and  social  life. 

The  suggestions  of  the  spirit  of  God  within  must 
be  translated  into  the  most  ordinary,  and  practical, 
and  trivial  facts  of  life,  if  the  devotional  life  is  to 
be  justified  before  the  eyes  of  a  practical  world. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[131] 


The    Day    of    Trouble 


XYI 

THE  DAY 
OF  TROUBLE 

My  dear  Father  : 

It  all  seems  a  dreadful  nightmare. 

I  cannot  believe  it  is  only  fourteen  days  since 
your  telegram  came  summoning  me  home,  and  I 
am  back  again  at  my  studies,  thinking  of  you 
all  in  our  desolated  home.  It  did  not  seem  pos- 
sible that  pneumonia  could  do  its  awful  work  so 
quickl3\ 

I  always  felt  mother  was  not  strong,  but  never 
dreamed  that  she  w^ould  be  taken  from  us.  The 
blow  fell  upon  us  so  suddenly  that  all  through 
those  silent  days  before  the  funeral,  and  after,  I 
seemed  stunned.  It  is  only  now  that  I  begin  to 
realize  what  has  happened.  It  seems  as  if  I  must 
go  back  by  the  next  train  to  comfort  you  and 
my  sisters.  But  as  you  said  at  the  station,  we 
must  try  to  live  our  lives  as  mother  would  have  us 
live  them,  wnth  something  of  the  heroism  of  her 
spirit. 

Now^  that  she  is  no  longer  with  us,  her  character 
seems  to  shine  with  a  more  brilliant  lusti'e  than 
ever.  She  always  appeared  perfect  to  me,  but 
somehow  I  see  her  to-day  as  I  never  saw  her.     The 

[132] 


The    Son's    Letter 


loveliness  of  her  life  seems  to  dawn  afresh  upon  ray 
mind.  And  part  of  my  sorrow  is  that  I  liad  not 
seen  it  before. 

I  am  thankful  for  the  hour  before  dinner  which 
I  had  with  her,  all  through  the  summer  when  I 
read  her  favourite  books  to  her ;  and  that  I 
have  written  to  her  constantly  since  leaving 
home.  13ut  I  envy  you  and  the  girls.  You  did  so 
much  more  for  her  than  I.  And  somehow  in  the 
bitterness  of  my  soul  I  feel  as  if  my  supreme  chance 
of  doing  kind  things  had  gone  forever.  There  is  al- 
ways such  a  miserable  temptation,  when  the  im|)ulse 
is  upon  one  to  say  something,  or  do  something,  that 
the  heart  prompts  one  to  say  or  do,  to  postpone  it,  or 
to  think  it  silly.  But  what  a  shameful  mistake 
such  an  attitude  appears  to  me  to-day.  I  feel  as  if 
it  might  be  easy  to  walk  home  over  burning  ashes, 
if  there  could  come  to  me  a  fresh  opportunity  to 
show  more  tender  consideration  for  mother.  But 
that  day  is  over.  And  I  hope  the  lesson  it  brings 
will  not  be  lost  upon  me. 

It  may  seem  strange  to  you,  but  in  the  attem])t 
to  rally  my  thouglits  for  my  work,  it  is  as  if  I  were 
not  loyal  to  you  all,  and  to  her  dear  memory,  to  be 
back  again  in  surroundings  where  she  never  lived, 
and  where  her  name  is  not  known.  While  I  think 
of  you  all  quietly  living  in  the  rooms  that  are  as- 
sociated with  her  life,  having  everything  about  you 
suggest  her,  it  seems  almost  brutal  to  be  going  on 

[  133  ] 


The    Day    of   Trouble 

here  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  have  no  desire, 
or  intention,  t(j  surrender  to  mere  sentimentality,  to 
soft,  weak,  enervating  feelings,  but  I  am  anxious 
and  determined,  to  be  loyal  in  every  libre  of  my 
being  to  the  memories  of  the  past,  which  have  now 
become  sacred  to  me. 

It  appears  to  me  it  would  be  sheer  cowardice  to 
press  on  with  my  work,  and  at  the  same  time  shut 
out  from  my  life  the  hallowing  influences,  which 
speak  to  me  with  a  force  which  I  never  before  felt. 
I  can  easily  see  how  it  might  be  possible  to  fling 
oneself  into  all  kinds  of  distractions  and  try  to  for- 
get, and  by  so  doing  not  to  suffer  anything  like  so 
much ;  but  at  the  same  time  to  contract  one's 
deeper  nature. 

While  I  despise  mere  maudlin  sentiment  on  the 
one  hand,  I  want  to  equally  despise  hardness  of 
heart  on  the  other.  Your  bearing  has  always 
seemed  to  me  to  be  the  ideal  attitude,  and  I  want 
it  to  be  mine  ;  to  possess  strength  joined  to  tender- 
ness. I  do  not  care  to  have  the  one  without  tlie 
other.  I  am  convinced  it  is  easy,  and  it  may  be 
cowardly,  to  possess  the  one  without  the  other,  or 
perhaps  I  should  rather  say,  the  semblance  of 
strength  or  tenderness,  for  one  feels  it  is  impossible 
to  have  real  strength,  or  real  tenderness  without 
having  both. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

A  in  HUH. 
[134] 


The    Father's    Reply 


My  dear  Akthuk  : 

Your  letter  has  clone  me  good.  It  is  exactly 
the  kind  of  letter  1  hoj)cd  you  would  write,  for  it 
shows  me  that  you  are  facing  the  situation  in 
wliich  we  find  ourselves  in  the  very  best  way  pos- 
sible. I  am  proud  of  you,  in  your  desire  to  possess 
strength  and  tenderness,  for  these  were  the  very 
secret  springs  of  your  mother's  character.  She  was 
the  incarnation  of  both.  And  no  one  can  ever 
know  how  miraculous  her  strength  of  character 
was.  Every  one  who  came  into  contact  with  her 
felt  the  fragrance  of  her  tenderness,  but  some- 
how people  do  not  ordinarily  associate  great  moral 
strength  with  a  somewhat  frail  body. 

It  is  quite  natural  that  you  should  sec  your 
mother's  life  now  as  you  had  not  seen  it  before,  and 
the  vision  of  its  moral  beauty  will  grow  still  more 
beautiful  to  you  as  the  days  go  by.  I  am  passing 
through  the  same  experience  ;  while  we  were  very 
much  together  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  knew  her  every 
thought,  it  is  only  now  that  her  s]Hritual  greatness 
stands  out  in  finished  and  sublime  beauty. 

Do  not  upbraid  yourself,  my  dear  boy,  for  past 
failures  in  devotion ;  you  Avere  a  dutiful  son,  and 
your  mother  would  have  you  spend  3'^our  thoughts 
not  upon  regrets,  but  upon  living  now  as  she  tried 
to  live.  Regrets  tend  to  discourage  rather  than 
inspire  life.  You  have  enough  sorrow  without 
making  the  burden  heavier  than  it  ought  to  be. 

[135] 


The    Day    of   Trouble 

You  can  still  serve  your  mother,  you  can  still 
commune  with  her,  by  living  like  her,  by  putting 
her  ideals,  her  aims,  her  cherished  hopes,  into  your 
life. 

The  language  between  us  and  her  is  not  now 
words  but  deeds.  We  speak  to  her  when  we  act 
like  her,  or  as  she  would  have  us  act.  Bear  in 
mind,  when  you  are  tr3dng  to  do  as  she  would  have 
you  think  and  act,  that  in  those  actions  you  are 
just  as  really  talking  with  her  as  if  you  spoke  to 
her.  You  will  not  have  the  same  mental  satisfac- 
tion in  it,  but  try  hard  to  make  the  actual  bond  be- 
tween you  and  her  a  real  one,  nevertheless.  For 
she  is  not  far  away.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  dis- 
tance in  the  life  of  the  spirit.  Then,  too,  do  not  let 
your  mind  get  into  the  habit  of  pitying  her.  Never 
say  to  yourself  :  "  Poor  mother." 

To  do  that  is  to  bring  elements  into  your  sorrow 
that  should  not  be  in  it.  She  does  not  need  any  of 
our  pity  ;  she  never  needed  it  less  than  at  this  mo- 
ment. She  has  gloriously  won  her  battle.  She 
has  entered  into  the  larger,  fuller  knowledge  of  the 
Eternal.  She  is  free  from  her  pliysical  limitations, 
her  pure  soul  has  joined  the  company  of  all  those 
who  live  in  the  eternal  light.  She  knows  more 
intimately  her  Lord  whom  her  soul  loved  with  a 
passionate  devotion.  And  as  you  and  I  live  our 
present  life  in  that  unseen  world,  we  have  fellow- 
ship with  her  in  the  present  hour. 

[130] 


The    Father's    Reply 


Do  not  let  your  imagination  jncture  her  as  i'ar 
away.  She  would  be  far  away,  if  you  and  1  were 
not  trying  to  live  as  she  lives.  In  the  higher  world 
similarity  of  character  means  nearness,  while  dis- 
similarity in  character  means  distance.  We  are 
separated  only  as  we  insist  u})on  living  upon  lower 
levels,  with  lower  aims.  The  great  question  is  not, 
shall  we  know  each  other  by  and  by  ?  it  is  rather : 
do  we  know  each  other  now  ?  Is  there  a  spiritual 
bond  between  us  and  our  loved  one,  are  we  striv- 
ing for  the  same  type  of  life  ?  That  is  the  guar- 
antee of  nearness  now,  and  of  all  the  blessings  that 
shall  come  to  us  later  on. 

You  are  entirely  right  in  your  determination  to 
live  under  the  spell  of  your  daily  tasks,  and  also 
under  the  influence  of  your  mother's  memory. 
They  can,  together,  make  you  more  of  a  true  man  ; 
together,  they  will  deepen  and  strengthen  your  per- 
sonality. And  all  the  more  so  because  it  is  more 
difficult  to  keep  under  the  spell  of  both  influences 
at  the  same  time.  It  would  be  easy  to  stay  at  home 
and  give  oneself  up  to  moping,  but  the  very  thought 
of  such  a  thing  is  repellent.  It  is  unwholesome, 
weak,  cowardly. 

The  person  who  would  give  himself  up  to  that 
kind  of  thing  could  never  be  of  an}'^  real  use  to 
other  people  in  times  of  trouble.  His  sympathy 
would  be  so  weak,  and  emotional,  as  to  be  a  real 
trial,  rather  than  a  comfort. 

[137] 


The    Day    of   Trouble 

We  instinctively  shrink  from  the  man  who  has 
no  power  of  emotional  control.  He  has  not  been 
sufficiently  tempered  in  the  furnace  of  discipline, 
he  is  not  enough  of  a  man  to  have  earned  the  right 
to  open  his  lips  when  others  are  in  trouble. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  quite  possible  to  shut  out 
the  higher  influences  such  as  pull  at  one's  heart- 
strings, to  draw  down  an  iron  door  as  it  were 
against  them,  to  furiously  go  on  with  one's  work, 
and  to  become  engrossed  in  it.  It  is  possible  to 
drown  every  overture  that  speaks  from  the  higher 
aspect  of  life,  and  to  lash  oneself  into  forgetfulness. 
This  may  be  done  by  various  means,  by  means 
totally  different  in  their  character,  but  producing 
the  same  result.  One  man  does  it  by  so  high  a 
means  as  work ;  he  may  goad  himself  on,  taking 
time  for  nothing  in  order  to  forget ;  another  man 
may  do  it  by  an  altogether  different,  and  lower, 
means.  The  result  is  a  certain  hardness  which 
often  passes  for  strength.  But  it  is  not  real 
strength.  While  it  is  as  hard,  it  is  also  as  brittle, 
as  cast  iron.  If  that  man  ever  gives  way,  he 
breaks  all  to  pieces. 

Besides,  that  unnatural  hardness  robs  life  of  its 
real  charm,  of  its  finer  side ;  it  destroys  the  human 
touch  of  pure  sympathy.  It  makes  life  metallic ; 
if  everybody  lived  like  that  the  heavens  would 
seem  to  be  as  brass.  There  would  be  no  such 
thing  as  sentiment,  and  sentiment  is  a  vastly  dif- 

[138] 


The    Father's    Reply 


forent  thing  from  sentimentality.  It  is  the  dif- 
ference between  a  horse  i)ulliiig  a  load,  and  one 
that  has  run  away,  overturning  the  load  into  the 
street.  True  sentiment  is  the  fragrance  of  the 
tlower  of  life. 

Your  idea  is  the  right  one,  to  mix  sentiment  with 
duty,  to  let  the  influence  of  your  mother's  memory 
rellne  and  deepen  your  life,  while  you  give  your- 
self faithfully  to  your  work.  Do  not  let  the  one 
shut  out  the  other.  The  expansion  of  your  man- 
hood needs  both.  It  is  the  assimilation  of  both 
which  tempers  character,  which  goes  to  make  a  true 
oentleman  in  the  highest  sense  of  that  much  abused 
word. 


Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[130] 


The    Influence    of   Trouble 


XVII 

THE  INFLUENCE  OF  TROUBLE 
UPON  CONDUCT 

My  dear  Father: 

I  am  going  on  with  my  life  just  as  before, 
bringing  into  it  all  the  inspiration  which  comes 
to  me  from  mother's  example  and  influence.  Her 
presence  grows  in  vividness  and  nearness,  so  much 
so,  that  I  can  almost  hear  her  urge  me  to  go  for- 
ward into  everything  that  is  worthy.  The  thought 
gives  me  a  new  zest  in  my  work,  and  in  my  com- 
panionships. It  seems  as  if  a  new  desire  to  go  pa- 
tiently into  details  has  taken  hold  of  me.  The 
great  thing  is  not  to  get  things  done  merely,  but  to 
try  to  do  them  as  artistically  as  possible. 

It  came  to  me  the  other  night  when  I  was  putting 
away  my  clothes,  to  do  it  thoroughly,  to  put  them 
on  the  stretchers,  to  fold  my  things  away.  It  never 
occurred  to  me  before  that  trivial  acts  like  that,  done 
with  quiet  leisureliness,  tended  to  give  poise  and  in- 
sight into  how  to  do  more  im])ortant  things.  There 
is  such  a  tcm])tation  always  dogging  my  steps  to  do 
things  merely  in  a  half  decent  w^ay.  You  could 
not  say  my  desk  was  kept  in  a  beastly  condition, 
but  then  it  was  never  really  in  ordei'.  My  things 
have  not  been  Ikiiig  about  anywhere,  esjieciall}'' since 

[140] 


The    Son's    Letter 


we  hadthe  talk  about  the  margin  of  time,  but  at 
the  same  time  they  were  not  disposed  of  with  com- 
plete care. 

And  I  am  beginning  to  see  that  it  is  necessary 
to  give  these  small  matters  the  undivided  atten- 
tion of  the  mind,  as  well  as  more  important  mat- 
ters, not  for  the  sake  of  the  things,  but  for  the 
sake  of  my  own  character.  I  am  discovering  that 
patient,  deliberate  thoroughness  in  trifles  helps  to 
create  that  calm  bearing,  and  steadiness  of  nerve 
which  help  to  keep  one  from  getting  excited  or  ir- 
ritable. I  begin  to  see  that  part  of  the  reason  for 
having  occasionally  lost  control  of  myself  has  been 
the  nervous  disturbance,  and  waste,  caused  by  eager- 
ness for  the  next  thing,  while  trying  to  do  with  a 
divided  mind  the  thing  in  hand. 

Another  thing  that  has  come  to  me  quite  lately 
is  the  desire  to  have  a  deeper  consideration  for  my 
fellow  men.  Somehow  since  our  great  sorrow  I  feel 
as  if  every  man  was  fighting  a  hard  battle.  I  seem 
to  read  pathos  in  human  eyes  where  before  there 
sometimes  appeared  to  me  only  selfishness. 

The  change  is  not  in  the  eyes  of  my  fellows  but 
in  me.  It  was  my  selfishness  that  read  selfishness. 
A  new,  glad,  patient  interest  in  people  I  hope  has 
been  born  in  me.  Every  man  is  greatly  worth 
while  being  interested  in.  I  could  not  have  said 
that  honestly  a  month  ago. 

There  is  a  new  tone  of  reality  in  the  human  voice 

[  141  ] 


The    Influence    of   Trouble 

as  I  listen  to  it  to-day,  the  things  which  concern 
others  have  assumed  a  new  signiticance  in  my  mind. 
Every  man's  life  history  is  just  as  important  as 
mine,  and  in  most  instances,  a  great  deal  more  so. 
And  when  I  hear  of  trouble  the  word  has  assumed 
an  entirely  different  meaning. 

How  much  shallow  sympathy  I  have  uttered 
even  in  my  short  day !  It  was  not  insincere,  but 
it  was  uninformed  ;  my  toy  sympathy  did  not  meet 
the  case.  It  was  like  my  old  toy  locomotive  being 
coupled  to  a  real  train  of  loaded  cars.  Somehow,  I 
think  perhaps  it  may  now  be  possible  for  me  to  be 
of  some  use  to  a  fellow  Avhen  he  is  in  trouble,  at 
any  rate  I  know  just  how  he  feels.  He  will  com- 
mand my  reverence,  and  an3^thing  else  in  my  power. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

Your  letter  informs  me  that  you  are  travel- 
ling the  road  of  all  healthy-minded  men  who  suffer. 
Your  trial  is  helping  to  make  you  a  man  from 
centre  to  circumference.  For  all  real  fresh  starts 
in  life,  on  the  human  side,  begin  in  the  determina- 
tion of  the  will  to  demand  thoroughness  in  the 
trifles  which  are  nearest  at  hand.  "When  a  fire  is 
kindled  it  is  the  paper  and  the  wood  which  ignite 
iirst,  and  then  the  coal.     The  trifles  in  life  are  the 

[  142  ] 


The    F  a  t  Ii  c  r  's    11  c  p  1  y 


paper  and  the  wood,  the  larger  affairs  are  the  coal. 
It  is  common  sense  not  to  apply  the  match  to  the 
coal,  to  the  larger  affairs  of  life,  first,  and  yet  that 
is  what  many  do,  and  then  wonder  why  there  is 
no  real  change  in  the  situation.  When  you  begin 
with  the  arrangement  of  your  desk  and  of  your 
clothes,  you  are  following  the  right  method ;  it  is 
in  that  way  the  fire  of  a  new  enthusiasm  is  kindled. 
After  that  I  am  quite  pi'epared  for  what  you  say 
regarding  your  new  intej-est  in,  and  sympathy  for, 
your  fellow  men.  Bear  in  mind  that  your  new 
conscientiousness  in  trifles  is  not  without  its  rela- 
tion to  the  larger  matters  of  sympatliy. 

Life  is  a  unity.  (Jne  act  of  genuine  living  leads 
to  another.  One  act  in  one  department  of  life 
affects  every  other  department  of  life.  Fidelity  in 
folding  your  clothes  is  definitely  related  to  every 
other  fidelity  in  the  day's  work.  Just  as  physical 
science  is  seeking  to  realize  a  unity  in  knowledge 
of  the  physical  woi'ld,  so  true  Christianity  is  seek- 
ing to  achieve  a  unity  in  the  realm  of  conduct  in 
the  human  world.  As  the  influence  of  a  pebble 
thrown  into  a  lake  moves  forward  towards  the 
opposite  shore,  so  an  act  at  one  s})ot  in  your  life 
sends  a  tremor  of  inspiration,  or  depression,  througli 
your  whole  character. 

I  rejoice  in  your  new  interest  in  your  fellows, 
and  shall  watch  for  its  outgrowth  with  the  keenest 
concern.     For  such  sympathy  must  go  forward  into 

[U3] 


The    Influence    of    Trouble 

the  problems  of  social  reality.  Sympathy  in  the 
heart  must  make  terminal  connections  with  the 
plain,  rude  facts  of  human  existence.  It  is  not 
enough  for  an  educated  man  to  feel  kindly ;  that  is 
the  right  starting  point,  to  be  sure,  but  kindly  feel- 
ing must  pass  along  the  hard  road  of  attempting 
to  reach  social  results.  It  is  not  enough  to  help  a 
poor  fellow  on  the  street,  or  through  a  charity 
organization  society ;  we  must  try  to  find  out  what 
brought  him  to  the  point  of  starvation,  and  we  must 
probe  those  conditions  which  broke  him. 

The  kindly  feeling  which  does  kind  acts  quietl}'^ 
and  humbly  may  be  beautiful,  but  if  it  stops  there 
you  may  encourage  a  class  of  people  who  prey  on 
kindly  feelings.  If  it  stops  there,  it  is  possible  for 
good  men  to  spend  their  strength  and  means  merely 
u])on  the  superficial  problems  of  society,  without  re- 
moving the  root  causes  of  social  trouble.  Think  of 
the  thousands  of  noble  men  and  Avomen  in  London, 
and  New  York,  Avho  are  spending  themselves  with- 
out stint  in  trying  to  grapple  with  poverty  and 
disease ;  but  unless  the  situation  is  handled  scien- 
tifically, unless  serious  and  large  concerted  attempts 
are  made  to  reach  the  causes  of  poverty  and  of  dis- 
ease, the  work  that  those  noble  souls  are  doing  will 
have  to  be  done  over  and  over  again.  There  will 
be  no  satisfying  sense  of  permanent  social  achieve- 
ment, of  retil  moral  progress. 

So  that  it  seems  to  mo  one  of  tlu^  snjJiHMUo  les 

I   144  I 


The    Father's    Reply 


sons  which  youii<^"  men  in  your  pc^sition  to-day 
should  learn  is  that  kindly  iecling  must  be  joined 
to  hai'd  thinking-.  If  those  gracious  sentiments  of 
your  heart  are  to  reach  the  seat  of  the  trouble  of 
the  world,  your  mental  life  is  going  to  be  taxed  to 
the  utmost.  Ami  surely  it  is  a  noble  use  of  the 
human  intellect. 

Between  ourselves,  I  am  seriously  thinking  of 
handing  over  the  responsibilities  of  my  business  to 
my  partners,  within  a  year  or  two,  so  that  I  may 
spend  the  rest  of  my  life  upon  those  very  problems 
which  were  dear  to  the  heart  of  your  mother.  I 
am  not  greatly  needed  in  business  now,  my  i)artners 
are  extraordinarily  able  men,  and  there  seems  no 
serious  reason  why  I  should  continue  in  the  same 
line  of  work  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  There 
would  be  a  sense  of  pride,  of  course,  in  having  you 
work  into  my  place.  But  that  is  not  a  large 
enough  reason  for  me  to  postpone  the  carrying  out 
of  a  solemn  conviction,  especially  when  it  is  consid- 
ered that  when  the  right  time  comes,  you  may  not 
care  to  enter  my  office ;  and  if  you  should  care, 
my  partners  will  see  to  it  that  you  have  the  fullest 
possible  opportunity. 

When  a  man  has  no  financial  concern  for  his 
family,  and  after  spending  his  years  beyond  middle 
life  in  a  business  which  may  no  longer  vitally  de- 
pend upon  him,  the  question  may  well  arise  in 
one's  mind  as  to  whether  he  has  fulfilled  his  obli- 

[  1^5  J 


The    Influence    of   Trouble 

gations  to  the  raw,  sad,  struggling  social  problems 
of  his  time. 

I  would  not  think  of  retiring  in  the  ordinary 
sense ;  that  would  be  both  cowardly  and  foolish. 
But  at  my  time  of  life,  before  I  am  too  old  to  be 
of  real  use,  it  seems  to  me  the  time  is  at  hand  for 
me  to  try  to  turn  kindly  feelings  towards  my  fellow 
men  into  hard  thinking  upon  the  awful  social 
problems  which  are  still  far  from  being  solved. 
Nor  do  I  feel  this  to  be  in  any  sense  an  attitude 
of  grace  on  my  part ;  it  is  rather  an  obligation  and 
a  high  privilege.  I  need  not  remind  you  that  this 
information,  for  the  present,  is  a  strictly  private 
matter ;  you  are  not  even  to  hint  at  it  in  the  re- 
motest way  in  your  letters  to  your  sisters. 

"We  must  bear  steadily  in  mind  at  this  time  that 
our  heart-breaking  sorrow  must  not  invade  the 
lives  of  other  people.  That  would  be  pure  selfish- 
ness. This  world  has  troubles  enough  of  its  own, 
and  so  has  every  man  in  it.  You  and  I  have 
learned  to  carry  our  trouble  in  an  altogether  dif- 
ferent direction.  And  since  that  is  the  case,  we 
must  be  strong;  enough  to  come  before  the  world  to 
pity,  and  encourage,  and  not  to  be  pitied. 

We  must  summon  ourselves  to  be  at  our  best  in 
all  our  social  relations.  It  is  not  enough  to  feel 
kindly  and  interested  in  our  hearts ;  we  must  make 
the  effort  to  manifest  it  in  our  voice,  our  hand- 
shake, in  our  whole  expression  and  bearing. 

[14G] 


The    Father's    Reply 


I  am  not  pleading  for  hypocrisy,  for  outward  ex- 
pressions which  have  no  genuine  counterpart  within. 
Such  acting  tends  to  degrade  character,  to  make 
every  part  of  a  man's  life  ring  false  with  insincerity. 
And  tlie  world  is  (juick  to  detect  the  false  note.  That 
is  the  reason  some  are  so  blunt  and  disagreeable ; 
they  think  they  have  settled  the  matter  when  they 
say  they  will  not  be  hypocrites.  But  they  have  no 
right  to  be  either  hypocrites  or  boors.  They  have 
an  obligation  to  rise  above  their  feelings,  to  feel 
rijrht  towards  the  world  as  well  as  to  translate  it 
into  action. 

You  and  I  owe  the  world  a  gracious  bearing  and 
gracious  behaviour,  and  we  dare  not  drown  tliat 
bearing  in  the  sea  of  oui-  })ersonal  trouble.  The 
man  who  is  not  willing  to  give  what  the  world  has 
a  legitimate  right  to  expect,  has  forgotten  an  im- 
portant part  of  true  self-expression. 

Youii  Affectionate  Father. 


[147] 


The    Optimistic    Spirit 


XVIII 

THE  OPTIMISTIC 
SPIRIT 

My  dear  Father  : 

I  believe  it  to  be  one's  duty  to  meet  the 
world  cheerfully,  and  to  strive  to  have  good  cheer 
in  the  heart  as  well  as  in  one's  manner.  But  I  do 
not  see  how  it  can  be  done  under  all  circumstances. 

So  many  people  carry  a  depressing  atmosphere 
about  with  them,  even  when  they  appear  to  be  in 
circumstances  which  their  friends  envy. 

There  is  not  a  great  deal  of  joy,  and  enthusiasm, 
amongst  those  who  are  living  under  the  most  ad- 
vantageous conditions.  There  is  apt  to  be  a  heavi- 
ness, and  solemnity,  which  spreads  a  contagion  of 
lifeless  formality. 

Where  there  is  an  external  gaiety  of  manner  such 
as  one  sees  in  society,  one  has  the  feeling  that  it 
lacks  something.  It  does  not  come  u]>  to  the  stand- 
ard of  the  genuine  article.  It  is  like  some  won- 
derful artificial  flowers  ;  they  look  remarkably  like 
the  real  ones,  but  they  are  without  the  fragrance. 

And  somehow  while  there  are  always  abundant 
signs  of  good  humour,  piquant  jokes,  smiles,  and 
great  energy,  one  misses  the  fragrance  of  a  rich 
happiness  in  most  lives. 

[148  J 


The    Son's    Letter 


Tho  nearest  approach  to  the  beaming,  fragrant 
kind  of  ha})piness,  which  one  sees,  is  in  a  girl's  eyes 
when  you  guess  there  is  a  secret  back  of  it.  And 
later  on  one  discovers  the  guess  turns  out  to  be  tho 
truth. 

If  those  who  are  living  under  blue,  radiant  skies 
of  material  and  social  advantage  scarcely  can  keep 
theii'  heads  above  the  waters  of  depression,  it  is 
surely  vain  to  expect  anything  but  abject  gloom 
from  those  who  are  living  under  leaden  skies, 
and  are  pierced  through  by  the  biting  winds  of 
adversity. 

And  yet  when  I  read  the  biography  of  some 
hard  pressed  soul  who  endured  solitude,  and  bittei 
hostility,  in  desperate  surroundings,  with  a  trium 
phant  faith ;  and  when  I  read  the  Bible,  I  am  i)er 
suaded  there  is  the  possibility  of  far  greatei 
hajipiness,  and  zest,  and  contagious  joy  in  living, 
than  we  ordinarily  see. 

And  the  experience  does  not  appear  to  be  largely 
dependent  upon  favourable  circumstances.  What  I 
would  like  to  know  is  the  principle  upon  which  this 
higher  type  of  happiness  is  cultivated. 

If  such  a  thing  is  possible  for  the  few,  it  ought  to 
be  available  for  the  many.  It  cannot  be  merely 
a  matter  of  temperament,  although  temperament 
probably  has  something  to  do  with  it. 

Since  God  has  implanted  this  thirst  for  happiness 
in  us,  since  the  optimistic  outlook  is  necessary  to 

[149] 


The    Optimistic    Spirit 

the  highest  kind  of  achievement,  since  we  are  so 
beneficially  affected  by  it  when  we  are  under  the 
spell  of  it,  even  in  a  book,  it  certainly  should  be 
within  the  reach  of  more  people  than  possess  it. 

I  would  like  to  have  it,  not  only  for  the  sake  of 
personal  satisfaction,  but  in  order  to  be  at  my  best 
for  my  work,  and  for  my  friends.  For  I  am  cer- 
tain that  those  who  have  the  genuine  optimistic 
spirit  can  bring  a  warmth,  and  radiance,  into  the 
social  atmosphere  which  nothing  else  in  this  world 
is  able  to  produce. 

You  have  always  had  it  in  a  greater  measure 
than  anybody  I  know,  and  I  wish  you  would  tell 
me  the  secret  of  it. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

It  seems  to  me  that  temperament  is  the  ex- 
]jlanation  of  the  optimistic  spirit  in  the  experience 
of  some.  But  in  others  that  spirit  is  manifested  in 
spite  of  a  temperament,  wliich  may  tend  towards  a 
pessimistic  outlook.  While  temperament  will  al- 
ways remain  as  a  tendency  in  human  nature,  the 
activity  of  such  tendency  may  be  modified  or 
cancelled  by  the  introduction  of  other  elements 
into  the  life.  As  the  activity  of  a  tendency 
towards    bronchitis   is  overcome  by  a  favourable 

[150] 


The    Father's     Reply 


climate,  so  the  same  principle  IkjUIs  true  in  the  life 
of  the  human  spirit. 

Many  men  and  women  have  demonstrated  the 
trium})hant  con(|uest  of  iiilierent  tendencies  of 
charactci'  by  living-  in  the  bracing  atmosphere  of 
spiritual  realities.  And  they  are  witness  to  the 
fact  that  their  victories  ^vere  not  in  any  sense  to 
be  explained  by  favourable  surroundings,  for  so 
often  the  testimony  comes  from  those  whose  cir- 
cumstances were  altogether  hostile  to  the  produc- 
tion of  such  a  state  of  mind. 

What  then  are  some  of  the  conditions  of  the 
sanguine  spii'it  ? 

I  would  emi)hatically  say  the  first  element  is  a 
persistent  faith  in  tlie  indwelling  })resence  of  the 
spirit  of  (xod  as  an  active,  ccjuperating  partner, 
within  the  soul,  for  the  conduct  of  life. 

The  attitude  of  mind  Avhich  secures  this  convic- 
tion of  the  actual,  aggressive  presence  of  the  Spirit 
of  God  consists  in  a  concentrated,  sustained  affirm- 
ation of  the  fact.  It  will  be  necessary  to  wrestle 
with  moods,  and  suggestions,  and  feelings,  which 
contradict,  and  pour  contempt  upon  the  bold  ven- 
ture of  faith. 

But  the  man  who  would  ]iossess  the  optimistic 
spirit  in  its  full  strength  must  maintain  the  attitude 
of  unbroken  assurance  that  the  spirit  of  God  is 
actually  at  work  in  his  soul  seeking  to  accompany 
him  into  the  details  of  every-day  life.     This  habit 

[151] 


The    Optimistic    Spirit 

of  mind  will  of  course  require  continual  practice, 
but  there  is  no  exercise  of  thfe  thought  and  will 
\vhich  is  so  fraught  with  far-reaching  and  uplift- 
ing consequences.  The  day  in  which  one  lets  that 
truth  grip  him,  and  hold  him,  may  be  a  day  of 
glorious  transition  from  the  winter  of  discontent 
into  the  spring  time  of  a  new  enthusiasm. 

I  should  say  the  second  element  in  the  cultivation 
of  the  sanguine  spirit  consists  m  an  unfaltering 
belief  that  obedience  to  the  suggestions  of  the 
Divine  Spirit,  in  the  path  of  duty,  achieves  the  ful- 
tillment  of  our  part  of  His  plan  for  our  lives.  That, 
too,  is  a  daring  venture  of  faith.  There  may  be 
nothing  whatever  to  corroborate  the  assertion,  no 
message  from  our  fellow  men,  no  clear,  immediate 
vision  of  definite  achievement  which  satisfies  our 
own  reason,  for  the  time  being. 

But  faith  is  content  to  take  a  short  view  of  life ; 
it  is  willing  to  take  it  in  sections,  being  convinced 
that  it  is  impossible  for  one  to  actually  see  the 
larger,  fuller  meaning  of  his  life  while  he  is  in  the 
thick  of  it.  It  is  not  till  later,  when  he  shall  look 
back  to  see  it  in  the  clearer  liglit  of  completion, 
that  he  may  have  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  full 
purpose  and  design  which  lay  behind  the  various 
details  and  sections  of  his  activities. 

If  one  can  believe  that  the  work  he  is  doing  to- 
day at  this  hour,  so  far  as  he  is  able  to  grasp  it,  is 
God's  wiU  for  him,  he  is  resting  upon  something 

[152] 


The    Father's    Reply 


which  contributes  to  the  muking  of  the  optimistic 
spirit. 

A  third  element  which,  it  seems  to  me,  must 
have  a  place  in  the  cultivation  of  such  a  spirit  is 
the  conviction  that  it  is  possible  to  put  through 
what  one  has  in  hand  to  do,  that  the  same  Spirit 
who  suggests  to  us  also  cooperates  with  us  in  the 
achievement  of  what  is  suggested.  If  the  mind  is 
concentrated  in  its  attention,  if  it  is  undivided,  if 
it  does  not  listen  to  paralyzing  whispers  which 
proclaim  the  task  to  be  impossible,  if  the  atten- 
tion is  doggedly  lixed  in  confident,  unbroken  ac- 
tivity, the  imagination  goes  ahead  of  the  actual 
work  in  hand  to  visualize  victory,  to  boldly  see 
the  thing  which  is  being  done,  already  mentally 
achieved.  And  it  is  when  imagination  paints  the 
picture  of  success  that  all  the  other  mental  powers 
are  drawn  out  into  the  task  of  bringing  things  to 
pass.  This  glowing  faith  in  one's  power  to  achieve 
because  God  is  cooperating  in  the  ventures  of  one's 
daily  life,  is  a  substantial  element  in  the  optimistic 
spirit. 

There  is  a  fourth  element  which  seems  to  me  to 
be  essential  to  a  radiant  o])timism  :  to  believe  in  a 
loving  ultimate  purpose  of  God  as  being  behind 
and  above  the  mysteries,  the  paradoxes,  the  sorrows 
of  life.  It  is  just  here  that  the  modern  mind  finds 
it  hardest  to  assent.  The  recoo-nition  of  the  reie-n 
of  law,  the  new  light  ujxjn  the  life  story  of  the  uni- 

[  153  J 


The    Optimistic    Spirit 

verse,  in  its  vast  and  minute  phases,  make  it  diffi- 
cult for  the  sensitive  mind  of  our  age  to  fit  a  be- 
lief in  Divine  love  into  the  scheme  of  things,  as 
it  appears  to  modern  eyes. 

Here  again,  even  after  the  most  profound  expla- 
nations are  made  by  the  wisest  men  in  the  world, 
even  after  the  most  ingenious  attempts  at  eluci- 
dation, there  must  be  the  exercise  of  an  heroic 
effort  of  faith.  It  is  impossible  to  get  away  from 
it,  if  one  is  to  have  an  optimistic  outlook.  There 
must  be  a  determined  resolution  to  trust,  rather 
than  to  question.  One  must  make  up  his  mind 
that  it  is  a  higher  exercise  of  the  human  personality 
to  trust  than  to  doubt,  to  be  willing  to  leave  the 
inscrutable  problems  which  haunt  the  mind.  For 
to  cling  to  the  simple  intuitions  of  a  trusting  soul 
is  the  only  way  out  of  the  dense  clouds  of  mystery. 

If  we  refuse  to  take  up  this  position,  if  we  insist 
upon  fighting  our  intellectual  way  through  every 
phase  of  the  torturing  puzzle  there  can  be  little 
hope  for  the  optimistic  outlook.  And  such  an  in- 
tellectual attitude  is  too  much  for  you  and  me. 
We  have  not  the  mental  equipment,  nor  the  time, 
to  make  any  headway  in  it.  The  problems,  the 
enigmas,  of  the  universe  would  exhaust  our  mental 
capacity  before  we  had  passed  the  fr-inge  of  the  in- 
quiry. And  that  is  true  not  only  of  ourselves ;  I 
cannot  think  of  a  living  man  who  would  profess 
himself  to  be  competent  to  handle  the  matter. 

[154] 


The     Father's    Reply 


There  are  therefore  only  two  alternatives  open  to 
plain  men  like  you  and  me  :  trust  or  doubt.  Ti"ust 
means  mental  [)eace,  it  means  j<-)yous  living,  it  means 
rising  up  into  a  sense  of  achievement,  of  tilling  a 
place  in  a  universal  plan.  Trust  makes  it  possible  to 
fit  one's  life  into  things  as  they  are,  with  an  assur- 
ance of  a  victorious  climax.  While  unbelief  will 
leave  the  soul  unsatisfied ;  it  may  mean  the  col- 
lapse of  enthusiasm,  the  death  of  intelligent  purpcjse 
in  the  struggle  of  life. 

It  is  for  us  to  choose  which  shall  make  us  more 
efficient,  moi'e  useful,  more  satisfied  men. 

There  is  one  more  element  which  I  would  men- 
tion as  forming  a  part  of  the  spirit  of  optimism,  and 
that  is  the  maintaining  of  the  spirit  of  love  in  our 
lives  as  a  woi'king  princi})le  in  conduct.  Since  we 
believe  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  within  us  to  express 
the  Divine  mind  and  will  through  us,  the  supreme 
element  in  that  expression  is  love.  It  is  therefore 
the  spirit  of  love  which  is  seeking  a  right  of  way 
through  our  personality. 

I  have  mentioned  these  five  elements  as  being 
essential  to  the  carrying  out  of  the  joyous,  san- 
guine, optimistic  attitude  towards  life.  Thei'e  are 
other  elements  which  we  might  very  profitably 
consider,  but  I  have  endeavoured  to  place  before 
your  mind  some  of  the  main  principles  out  of  which 
the  others  grow. 

I  do  not  forget  that  the  summoning  of  the  will ; 

[155] 


The    Optimistic    Spirit 

the  cultivation  of  a  sense  of  humour ;  keeping  the 
physical  life  in  a  sound  condition  by  exercise  and 
self-control ;  the  diversion  of  a  wholesome  hobbj^, 
all  play  their  important  part  in  helping  one  to  rise 
into  the  optimistic  temper. 

YouK  Affectioijate  Father. 


[  156  ] 


The    Son's    Letter 


XIX 

TRANSLATING  IDEAS 
INTO  CHARACTER 

My  dear  Fattier: 

I  mentally  grasp  the  five  elements  which 
you  consider  necessary  in  order  to  experience  some- 
thing of  the  optimistic  spirit  as  a  working  force  in 
life.  But  I  dare  not  say  that  I  have  spiritually 
assimilated  the  ideas.  It  is  one  thing  to  see  truth 
intellectually  and  even  to  heartily  assent  to  it ;  l)ut 
to  be  able  to  use  it  as  part  of  one's  moral  capital  in 
living  is  quite  another  matter. 

And  I  perceive  it  to  be  the  practical  problem 
before  me,  to  learn  how  to  turn  what  has  been 
put  before  my  mind  as  an  idea,  into  that  which  is 
actually  possessed  by  my  spirit  as  character. 

I  must  get  the  ideas  to  sink  into  my  deeper  life, 
instead  of  Hoating  on  the  surface  of  my  mind. 
That  is  not  quite  as  easy  as  it  may  appear. 

In  fact,  it  is  the  difference  between  mentally  see- 
ing an  idea,  and  living  it,  that  is  the  whole  trouble 
everywhere,  as  it  appears  to  me. 

Many  have  magnificent  opportunities  of  listen- 
ing to  brilliant  and  original  thoughts,  beauti- 
fully expressed,  year  in  and  year  out.  And  they 
talk  with  enthusiasm  about  the  things  to  which 

[157] 


Translating  Ideas  into  Character 

they  have  the  privilege  to  listen.  One  would  ex- 
pect to  see  very  high  types  of  character  as  a  result 
of  such  opportunities.  One  naturally  looks  for  a 
striking  difference  in  their  lives,  from  those  who 
have  not  had  the  same  advantages.  But  the  differ- 
ence is  by  no  means  always  evident.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  net  result  in  practical  life  is  sometimes 
quite  disappointing.  Conduct  remains  tame,  and 
small,  and  selfish,  notw^ithstanding  the  years  of 
conspicuous  privilege  in  hearing  the  highest  prin- 
ciples of  life  clearly  and  forcefully  proclaimed. 

The  same  disparity  between  knowledge  and  con- 
duct is  sometimes  seen  in  the  case  of  an  omnivorous 
reader.  He  appears  to  read  everything,  to  have  be- 
come acquainted  with  every  kind  of  theory.  His 
mind  is  up  to  date  upon  almost  every  phase  of 
thought.  One  is  prepared  to  see  as  a  consequence 
an  impressive  and  unique  type  of  character.  But 
he  may  find  instead  an  exceedingly  ordinary  type 
of  character,  with  glaring  weaknesses  in  the  actual 
conduct  of  life.  The  mind  may  be  in  the  twentieth 
century,  while  the  heart  lives  in  a  dark  bygone 
age. 

So  that  what  one  may  hear  concerning  truth,  the 
ideas  he  may  even  clearly  visualize  to  his  own  mind, 
give  no  guarantee  that  they  will  be  mixed  into  the 
substance  of  life. 

I  am  anxious  to  guard  against  the  danger  of  sub- 
stituting mental  assent  to  truth  for  character.     I 

[158] 


The    Father's    Reply 


would  like  to  be  ke[)t  from  surrendering  to  the 
temptation  of  merely  I'unning  after  new  ideas  for 
their  own  sake,  without  having-  a  definite  and 
eai-nest  purpose  of  translating  them  into  my  own 
spirit  and  conduct. 

It  seems  to  me  to  be  a  futile  kind  of  existence, 
this  mere  hunger  for  something  brilliant,  and  pro- 
found, without  the  slightest  concern  as  to  how  to  fit 
it  into  one's  way  of  living. 

I  suppose  it  is  possible  for  people  to  become 
drunkards  on  ideas  as  well  as  on  alcoiiol,  to  mentally 
tipple  upcm  high  themes  for  the  sake  of  the  mental 
exhilaration,  rather  than  for  inspiration  to  live  the 
highest  possible  kind  of  life. 

I  woukl  like  you  to  tell  me  how  in  your  judg- 
ment it  is  possil)le  to  transmute  ideas  into  moral 
reality.  For  I  do  not  care  to  grow  faster  in  the 
knowledge  of  spii'itual  reality  than  I  am  able  to 
turn  the  knowledge  into  life.  For  if  I  do,  I  may 
get  into  the  way  of  thinking  that  learning  about 
high  con 
them  out 


high  concerns  is  a  sufficient  substitute  for  living 


Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  df:ar  Artiit^r  : 

I  cannot  claim  to  have  lived  up  to  my  highest 
light.      I  do  not  think  that  even  the  best  of  men 

[159] 


Translating   Ideas  into  Character 


Avould  be  so  bold  as  to  say  they  had  always  been 
true  to  the  call  of  the  highest. 

I  remember  standing  by  the  Lake  of  Geneva  on  a 
glorious  day  looking  up  towards  the  summit  of 
Mont  Blanc,  which  seemed  so  near,  and  accessible,  as 
the  late  afternoon  sun  glorified  the  eternal  snows  ;  I 
heard  a  little  girl  say  to  her  father  :  "  Let  us  go  up 
to  the  top  of  Mont  Blanc  and  play  in  the  snow." 
And  there  are  some  who  talk  like  that  in  regard  to 
the  immaculate  summits  of  moral  attainment. 

But  it  is  the  experienced  climber  who  knows  the 
treacherous  difficulties  of  the  ascent,  both  on  the 
Alps  and  in  moral  endeavour. 

At  the  same  time,  I  heartily  believe  in  the  san- 
guine spirit,  the  optimistic  outlook,  so  long  as  it  rec- 
ognizes the  actual  facts  of  life.  And  the  sanguine 
spirit  may  be  cultivated  in  the  presence  of  the  most 
vivid  understanding  of  the  difficulties  confronting 
all  of  us,  if  we  maintain  a  firm  grasp  of  the  spiritual 
resources  which  are  at  our  command. 

And  this  is  your  problem  ;  you  are  concerned  to 
make  spiritual  truth  jmrt  of  your  elemental  self,  and 
not  a  mere  apprehension  of  your  intelligence. 
While  keeping  the  realities  of  the  world  cleai'ly  in 
view,  you  are  keen  to  possess  in  your  soul  the 
counterbalancing  eternal  resources,  instead  of  only 
mentally  visualizing  them. 

The  transmutation  of  a  mental  vision  of  truth 
into  moral  energy  in  ciiaract(?r  requires  a  recogni- 

[ICO] 


The    Father's    Reply 


turn  of  the  time  element.  You  are  familiar  with 
tiie  i(I(>a  of  a  time  exposure  when  you  have  taken 
photogi'aphs.  I  have  hoard  you  say  when  you 
were  particularly  anxious  to  have  a  distinct  })icture, 
that  you  lengthened  the  time  exposure.  And  I 
have  also  heard  you  say  that  you  had  ruined  i)ic- 
tures,  which  you  had  looked  forward  to  })ossessing, 
by  unconsciously  taking  photogr-aphs  of  two  differ- 
ent scenes  on  the  same  plate.  One  must  bear  in 
mind  that  both  the  time  element,  and  one  photo- 
graph for  one  plate,  have  their  counterpart  in  the 
facts  of  the  inner  life. 

We  are  constantly  tempted  to  neglect  the  time 
ex])osure  idea,  in  regard  to  the  assimilation  of 
truth.  We  are  hnpelled  to  allow  one  aspect  of 
truth  after  another,  to  make  its  faint  impression 
upon  the  mind,  until  there  is  no  vivid,  intelligible, 
recognition  of  anything.  The  mind  is  a  photo- 
graphic plate,  as  it  were,  which  has  had  a  composite 
picture  of  a  variety  of  ideas  im])ressed  upon  it.  In 
our  hurry  to  obtain  a  large  number  of  mental  im- 
pressions, no  single  idea  has  had  its  legitimate 
chance. 

There  is  a  tendency  to  make  a  fetish  of  the  acquisi- 
tion of  ideas,  without  an  adequate  concern  for  their 
})ermanent  distinctness,  and  safety,  in  the  camera  of 
the  mind.  We  take  far  more  mental  photographs 
than  we  have  ])lates  on  which  to  clearly  image 
them.     The  result  is  that  in  our  eagerness  to  ac- 

[  n>l  ] 


Translating  Ideas  into  Character 

quire  everj'^thing  we  possess  nothing.  The  eifect- 
iveness  of  one  idea  has  been  cancelled  by  the  rapid 
introduction  of  another. 

We  must  discriminate  as  to  the  ideas  we  shall 
allow  to  take  possession  of  our  mind,  as  a  man  who 
hopes  to  retain  his  physical  health  does  in  regard  to 
his  food.  A  large  quantity  of  food  is  not  a  guar- 
antee of  physical  fitness,  it  very  probably  will  be 
the  guarantee  of  quite  the  reverse. 

There  must  be  a  recognition  of  the  time  element 
in  order  to  assimilate  ideas  into  the  elemental  life. 
One  must  try  to  practice  what  was  called  "  recol- 
lection "  in  a  former  age.  The  affairs  of  the  world 
crowd  too  much  upon  us  even  when  we  are  alone. 

The  high  princi])les,  and  august  facts,  which 
should  be  woven  into  life,  like  mathematics  in  a 
bridge  of  stone  and  iron,  do  not  have  enough  of  a 
chance  to  grip  us.  Even  when  we  give  up  small 
portions  of  our  time  to  permit  ideas  to  sink  down 
into  character,  the  process  is  not  successful  unless 
the  mind  is  rigorously  concentrated.  For  whenever 
a  serious  thought  is  before  the  mind,  there  are 
several  irrelevant  thoughts  ready  to  usurp  its  place. 
And  oftener  than  not,  the  unimportant  suggestions 
succeed  in  capturing  the  attention  of  the  mind.  In 
such  circumstances  no  real  transmutation  of  an  idea 
into  power  can  take  place.  The  amount  of  time 
given  to  the  mere  a]ipearance  of  reflection  does  not 
save  the  situation  from  unreality.     Concentration 

[  1(52  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


of  mind  is  the  channel  thrcnigh  which  mental  im- 
pressions pass  into  moral  enei-gy. 

Of  course,  it  is  dillicult  to  liiul  time  for  reilection, 
but  not  quite  so  diihcult  as  we  (ordinarily  im;igine. 
It  is  the  lack  of  the  appropriate  temper  of  mind 
which  creates  most  of  the  excuses  of  being  too 
busy. 

Besides,  the  supreme  meaning  of  the  provision  of 
Sunday  as  a  day  of  rest  is  to  make  it  possible  for  us 
to  spend  time  in  reflecting  upon  the  stupendous  un- 
seen realities.  It  provides  the  opportunity  for  at- 
tempting to  grasp  the  largei',  fuller,  richer  meaning 
of  life. 

Men  of  old  who  spoke  to  their  generation  the 
messages  which  illumined  the  path  of  ])rogress  were 
men  who  meditated.  They  remained  long  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  spiritual  verities.  They  were 
not  afraid  of  Sunday  quiet,  they  were  not  bored  by 
the  cessation  of  the  world's  work.  They  were  not 
in  a  fever  of  discontent  and  unrest,  because  the 
doors  were  closed  in  the  streets  one  day  in  the 
week.  They  were  not  dependent  upon  their  sur- 
roundings for  satisfaction ;  they  drank  from  the 
fountain  of  truth.  They  rejoiced  in  the  silence 
which  made  it  possible  for  them  to  listen  to  the 
overtures  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  For  they  recog- 
nized it  was  an  even  higher  attitude  to  listen  to 
God  than  to  talk  to  II im.  And  they  came  back  to 
the  life  of  the  world  with  ideas  turned  into  burning 

[  1^3  ] 


Translating   Ideas  into  Character 


convictions,  by  which  they  were  ready  to  live,  and 
for  which  they  were  prepared  to  die. 

Do  not  shrink  from  Sunday  quiet.  Let  your 
spirit  commune  with  those  majestic  facts  which 
shall  make  you  strong,  and  gracious,  and  optimistic 
in  the  midst  of  the  trials  of  life.  Let  your  satisfac- 
tions spring  from  high  thinking,  rather  than  from 
servile  dependence  upon  out^vard  excitements. 

The  counterpart  of  meditation  is  action.  The  ef- 
fort to  live  out  what  one  has  accepted  as  truth, 
will  make  truth  a  spiritual  possession  as  well  as  an 
intellectual  perception.  It  is  as  ideas  are  turned 
into  conduct  they  become  permanent  elements  of 
character,  and  not  merely  fleeting  visions  of  the 
mind.  And  more  than  that,  it  is  in  the  practice  of 
translating  truth  into  life,  that  larger  areas  of  truth 
are  conquered  by  the  mind.  There  is  more  spiri- 
tual knowledge  learned  through  action  than  by  any 
other  means,  so  that  genuine  spiritual  living  both 
quickens  and  expands  the  intellect. 

YouK  Affectionate  Father. 


[164] 


The    Son's    Letter 


XX 

INTUITION  IN 
CHRISTIAN  BELIEF 

My  dear  Father: 

I  shall  not  forget  that  time,  concentration, 
and  quiet  reflection,  are  factors  in  the  process  of 
turning  spiritual  ideas  into  moral  strength. 

1  find  that  some  spiritual  truths,  which  I  have 
been  brought  up  to  accept  and  live  by,  do  not  find 
even  intellectual  hospitality  in  some  quarters. 

One  becomes  conscious  that  there  is  a  chill  east 
wind  of  doubt  blowing,  and  it  moans  through  the 
minds  of  a  few  men  of  my  acquaintance. 

One  and  another  have  told  me  quite  frankly  that 
they  have  ceased  to  hold  some  of  the  views  which 
they  formerly  believed. 

This  would  not  make  any  impression  upon  me,  if 
all  those  who  made  these  statements  were  careless, 
or  distinctly  selfish  characters.  For  one  can  in- 
tuitively see  that  the  kind  of  life  a  man  lives  will 
have  a  very  direct  bearing  upon  his  beliefs,  as  well 
as  the  other  way  about. 

I  have  learned  to  understantl  that  the  tend- 
ency of  a  character  powerfully  influences  the  in- 
tellectual outlook.  The  man  himself  may  be  en- 
tirely unconscious  of  it,  but  I  liave  observed  a  de- 

[  105  ] 


Intuition    in    Christian    Belief 

parture  from  vital  belief  follow  upon  a  departure 
from  conscientious  living. 

That  is  not,  however,  by  any  means  always  the 
case,  for  one  occasionally  encounters  a  man,  who 
while  he  is  letting  go  his  grip  upon  his  beliefs,  so 
far  as  can  be  seen,  is  at  the  same  time  endeavour- 
ing to  live  an  earnest,  useful,  life. 

Some  of  the  doubts  which  are  expressed  are  not 
at  all  serious ;  they  appear  to  me  to  arise  out  of  a 
lack  of  discei-nment  as  to  what  is  of  primary  im- 
portance, and  what  is  of  secondary  importance. 

But  all  the  doubts  which  I  have  lieard  expressed 
cannot  be  placed  in  that  class.  They  concern  what 
is  most  vital  and  fundamental,  for  my  own  spiritual 
life,  at  any  rate. 

The  question  which  I  wish  to  put  to  you  is :  should 
I  fight  through  these  intellectual  difficulties,  should 
I  try  to  reason  out  to  my  own  satisfaction  the  per- 
plexities which  I  hear  put  forward,  or  should  I  shut 
out  the  suggestion  of  difficulty,  as  one  would  fight 
the  beginnings  of  a  fire  ? 

I  do  not  wish  to  be  an  intellectual  coward,  nor  do 
I  desire  to  be  an  intellectual  suicide. 

I  would  like  to  take  my  stand  as  a  man  among 
men,  upon  the  intellectual  aspect  of  religion  as  well 
as  in  other  matters. 

I  know  the  sujireme  importance  of  my  faith  for 
the  conduct  of  my  actual,  every-day  life.  It  equips 
me  for  living,  it  gets  work  out  of  me  which  I  could 

[IGGJ 


The    Father's    Reply 


not  get  out  of  myself,  it  ins[)ii'e.s  me  in  the 
face  of  (lilliculLy,  and  pacilies  mental  revolt  in 
the  presence  of  mystery  ;  it  gives  zest  and  meaning 
to  life  when  nothing  else  has  a  message  for  a  plain 
man. 

1  recognize  all  that,  with  increasing  vividness,  but 
I  would  like  to  know  what  is  the  really  manly  atti- 
tude towards  the  intellectual  aspect  of  the  religious 
situation.  Does  it  consist  in  taking  i*ef uge  from  dif- 
ficulty, as  one  would  seek  shelter  in  a  storm,  or  d(jes 
the  heroic  attitude  demand  that  one  shall  think  the 
whole  thing  through,  until  he  has  conquered  every 
mental  obstacle  V 

Your  affectionate  son, 

AltTHUR. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

Some  men  do  not  know  where  the  channel 
of  the  river  of  truth  lies,  and  because  of  that,  their 
ship  of  faith  goes  aground  on  a  shallow  sand-bank. 
They  wreck  their  boat  on  deposits  of  theological 
soil,  which  the  centuries  have  carried  down  into  the 
stream  of  religious  belief.  They  have  not  a  clear 
idea  in  their  minds  as  to  what  is  channel  and  what 
is  sand-bank  in  the  river  of  truth. 

It  makes  my  heart  glad  to  think  that  you  see 
there  are  some  problems  in  belief,  regarding  which 
you  need  not  concern  yourself,  so  long  as  you  cling 

[107] 


Intuition    in    Christian    Belief 

to  those  great  primary  facts  out  of  which  your  spir- 
itual expei'ience  has  come. 

You  evidently  have  a  definite  understanding  in 
your  own  mind  as  to  the  vital  realities  in  religion, 
over  which  you  must  keep  guard.  You  comprehend 
that  there  are  some  difficulties  reg-ardinir  which  vou 
do  not  consider  it  necessary  to  enter  into  a  discus- 
sion. They  are  not  pillars  upon  which  the  structure 
of  belief  rests. 

According  to  conversations  we  have  had  in  the 
past,  your  faith  rests  upon  the  personality  of  Christ 
as  the  revelation  of  eternal  reality.  He  is  a  pres- 
ence. You  do  not  seek  to  define  Ilim,  you  try  to 
know  Him,  to  listen  to  Ilim,  to  obey  Him. 

His  personality  stood  before  you  as  a  challenge. 
And  when  you  responded,  it  was  something  in  you, 
deeper  even  than  your  reason,  which  rose  to  His  ap- 
peal. It  was  your  whole  nature,  of  which  your 
reason  is  only  a  part,  which  consented. 

It  was  your  intuitive,  elemental,  self  which  ven- 
tured to  trust  and  obey  Him.  And  that  intuitive 
sense,  in  the  most  various  types  of  men,  in  most 
widely  sei)arated  centuries,  in  the  most  opposite 
kinds  of  civilization,  has  recognized  in  Christ  the 
supreme  message  of  God  to  the  soul. 

But  I  emphasize  that  it  was  your  intuitive  sense 
which  listened  to  the  call  of  Christ;  it  was  not  a 
mere  section  of  your  being,  it  was  your  whole  ])er- 
sonality  focussed    into    a  unity  of  self-expression, 

[108] 


The    Father's    Reply 


and  the  intuitive  sense  is  the  fii-st  point  of  contact 
between  the  human  spirit  and  outside  reality. 

The  pioneer  function  of  the  intuitive  instinct  is  a 
practical  fact  in  other  sphei-es  of  life  besides  relig- 
ion. The  love  which  one  feels  towards  another  is 
an  expression  of  something  dee})er  than  reason. 
The  admiration  which  one  has  for  a  beautiful  hmtl- 
scape  springs  fi-om  the  intuitive  sense.  When  you 
trusted  and  began  to  follow  Christ  it  was  the  exer- 
cise of  this  same  faculty  and  principle. 

The  crux  of  the  question  is  whether  the  sublime 
spiritual  presence  to  whom  your  elemental  life  has 
gone  out,  is  a  piesence  who  is  in  any  way  contra- 
dicted by  that  section  of  your  being  which  you  call 
your  rational  life.  Does  your  reason  contradict 
your  spiritual  intuition  in  regard  to  Christ  ? 

For  if  there  is  an  actual  contradiction,  there  can 
be  no  spiritual  reality.  Life  is  a  unity,  and  what  we 
comprehend  intuitively  can  never  be  really  contra- 
dicted by  reason. 

Intuition  is  not  afraid  of  reason,  in  the  region  of 
religion,  any  more  than  it  is  afraid  of  it  in  love,  or  art, 
or  in  the  contem])iation  of  the  beautiful  in  nature. 

Some  peo])le  think  that  reason  contradicts  spiri- 
tual intuition,  simply  because  intuition  cannot  wholly 
explain  itself,  cannot  wholly  rationalize  its  con- 
clusions, cannot  rationally  demonstrate  its  convic- 
tions. But  such  inability  does  not  reduce  the 
exercise  of  faith  to  unreasonableness.     If  that  were 

[1G9] 


Intuition    in    Christian    Belief 


true  nobody  would  love,  without  being  an  intellec- 
tual expert  at  proving  its  rationality.  None  w^ould 
dare  to  live  under  the  spell  of  the  beautiful  in 
nature  or  art  without  being  able  to  give  a  reasoned 
reason  for  admiring  the  beautiful.  But  one  does 
not  act  in  that  way  ;  he  may  be  hopelessly  unable 
to  reason  out  the  reasonableness  of  his  affection,  or 
his  sense  of  the  beautiful,  or  a  hundred  other  things. 
And  yet  he  does  not  let  that  candidly  admitted 
fact  interfere  with  his  enjoyment  of  what  to  him 
is  of  the  essence  of  reality. 

Very  few  men,  indeed,  have  the  power  to  ration- 
alize their  intuitive  conclusions,  in  religion  or  in 
anything  else.  That  is  not  a  dogmatic  utterance 
of  mine ;  it  is  a  perfectly  plain,  self-evident,  state- 
ment of  fact.  The  simple  reason  for  being  unable 
to  reduce  their  intuitional  convictions  to  rational 
demonstration  is  because  of  their  lack  of  mental 
equipment,  and  training,  and  time,  which  would  be 
necessary  for  the  task. 

So  that  your  intellectual  attitude  towards  the 
spiritual  realities  of  your  faith  will  depend  upon  the 
ability  of  your  mind  to  handle  the  questions  involved. 

It  is  not  at  all  a  (juestion  of  courage ;  it  is  a 
matter  of  mental  strength.  If  one  should  be  chal- 
lenged to  lift  a  ton  weight,  it  would  not  be  a  sign 
of  cowardice  if  he  refused,  it  would  simj^ly  be  a 
decision  of  common  sense,  and  thei-e  might  be  great 
courage  in  the  exercise  of  it. 

[170] 


The    Father's    Reply 


The  atteiii})t  to  perform  an  iini)ossible  feat 
would  pi'(jbably  result  in  serious  injury  or  death, 
and  the  iiiWjvt  would  neither  be  an  exhibition  of 
heroism  nor  wisdom. 

But  for  one  who  has  the  mental  equipment,  the 
training,  the  time,  to  mentally  deal  with  the  intel- 
lectual aspect  of  the  fundamental  problems  of  re- 
ligion the  whole  situation  is  entirely  dilferent. 
What  might  be  mental  heroism  on  his  part  would 
be  foolhardiness  on  the  part  of  another,  who  has  no 
such  appai'atus  to  put  the  work  through. 

Every  man  has  a  perfect  right  to  face  any,  or 
every,  problem  for  which  he  has  the  strength  of 
mind,  the  training,  and  the  time  by  which  to  be 
able  to  handle  all  the  facts  in  the  case. 

When  he  does  not  possess  these  qualifications,  he 
does  not  therefore  surrender  his  convictions,  so  long  as 
it  is  not  proved  to  his  satisfaction  that  what  he  clings 
to  is  irrational.  For  it  is  one  thing  to  hold  a  convic- 
tion \vhich  is,  for  the  time  being,  beyond  one's  power 
to  rationally  demonstrate ;  it  is  (piite  another  thing  to 
have  it  proven  to  one  that  what  he  believes  is  not 
intellectually  tenable.  And  so  long  as  the  supreme 
fact  of  your  faith  cannot  be  assailed  as  irrational,  it 
is  your  privilege  and  duty  to  cling  to  it  with  tenacity. 

Besides,  the  burden  of  proof  is  upon  the  man  who 
w^ould  rob  you  of  your  convictions. 

Before  I  close  let  me  turn  to  an  altogether  dif- 
ferent aspect  of  your  religious  beliefs. 

[171] 


Intuition    in    Christian    Belief 

You  know  something  of  the  progress,  m  the  life 
of  the  world,  which  the  living  Christ  has  achieved 
through  His  faithful  disciples,  throughout  the  cen- 
turies ;  you  know  how  nuich  He  has  done  for  your 
own  spirit.  There  is  therefore  an  obligation  resting 
upon  you  to  pass  on  what  you  have  received.  The 
law  of  progress  demands  it.  You  have  received 
treasures  from  the  sacrifice  and  industry  of  the 
past ;  you  must  give  to  the  future  what  is  making 
you  all  that  you  are.  Since  we  recognize  the  prin- 
ciple of  giving  to  posterity  in  unbroken  beauty,  so 
far  as  we  are  able,  the  highest  and  noblest  achieve- 
ments which  have  been  handed  down  to  us  in 
architecture,  literature,  art,  music,  and  every  other 
sphere  of  worthy  entei'prise,  surely  the  same  prin- 
ciple applies,  with  even  greater  force,  in  the  realm 
of  religion.  For  it  is  religion  which  provides  the 
foundations  upon  which  all  the  other  achievements 
of  history  rest,  and  which  is  the  only  real  guarantee 
of  their  preservation. 

Your  personality  must  give  its  contribution  to 
the  sum  of  spiritual  reality,  which  the  present  age 
shall  becjueath  to  the  coming  generation.  And  I 
pi-ay  that  your  contribution  may  be  such  that,  if 
all  men  were  to  do  likewise,  the  near  future  would 
witness  the  universal  coming  of  the  kingdom  of  Ciod 
upon  earth. 

Your  Affectionate  FAniEit. 

[172] 


The    Son's    Letter 


XXI 

SELF-GIVING, 
OR  GETTING? 

My  dear  Father  : 

AVe  have  discussed  the  place  which  the  vari- 
ous influences  in  my  surroundings  here  may  have 
upon  the  deepening  ami  ex[)ansi(jn  of  my  life. 

You  have  helped  me  to  understand  that  these  in- 
fluences can  be  made  effective  only  as  I  have  suffi- 
cient spiritual  life  in  the  depths  of  my  being,  to  be 
able  to  assimilate  them  into  a  growing  character. 

I  realize  as  never  before  that  mv  true  self  must 
be  free  from  every  weakening  habit,  which  would 
hinder  self-ex})ression  in  the  highest  sense. 

You  have  given  me  sufficient  reasons  for  retain- 
ing in  undisturbed  simplicity,  the  bond  of  fellow- 
ship with  the  living  Christ.  And  you  have  brought 
home  to  my  mind  the  obligation,  which  rests  upon 
me,  to  carry  forward  into  the  life  of  the  world,  the 
treasures  which  the  sacrifice  and  enterprise  of  the 
past  have  given  to  us  to  pass  on  to  the  future. 

If  I  can  keep  steadily  before  ray  mind  that  my 
main  business  in  living  is  to  make  as  complete  as 
possible,  my  contribution  to  society  of  that  which  I 
have  received,  I  shall  have  found  a  sufficient  motive 
for  life. 

[173] 


Self- Giving,    or    Getting? 


But  if  I  must  carry  into  the  mighty  river  of  the 
world's  flowing  life,  what  has  been  given  me  to 
convey  to  it,  I  must  make  my  life  a  stream  that  is 
constantly  bearing  all  that  it  has  to  give,  rather  than 
a  stagnant  pool  which  retains  everything  for  itself. 
And  such  an  attitude  appears  to  me  to  be  the 
guarantee  of  joyous  personal  satisfaction. 

I  have  a  distinct  conviction  that  the  life  of  mere 
o-etting,  of  hoarding,  of  living  for  selfish  gratifica- 
tion, is  a  ghastly  failure. 

There  are  men  who  have,  and  who  do  not  pos- 
sess. They  have  seized  what  they  desired,  and  they 
have  lost  the  capacity  to  enjoy  it  in  the  process. 
One  thinks  he  can  see  in  their  faces  the  look  of  dis- 
appointment, that  they  have  been  tricked  in  their 
shrewd  game. 

If  one  has  enough  to  live  upon,  without  caring 
about  display,  or  social  ambition  and  rivalry,  he 
has  solved  the  problem  of  personal  necessity.  And 
I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  try  to  be  content  with 
that  through  the  coming  years.  For  the  game  of 
acquiring,  and  the  strain  of  striving  for  things 
whicli  people  do  not  really  need,  impresses  me  as  a 
cruel  illusion. 

Men  never  seem  to  me  to  be  so  happy  as  when 
they  are  among  the  simplicities  of  existence.  There 
is  a  sense  of  having  the  springs  of  true  hai)piness 
choked,  when  one  is  in  the  thick  of  purely  artificial 
pleasures  and  pursuits. 

[174] 


The    Father's    Reply 


I  have  tliou<^lit  it  over  a  great  deal,  and  would 
really  like  t(j  live  a  thoroughly  siiuple  life,  not 
inci'cly  iu  regard  to  material  things,  but  in  the 
more  subtle  regions  of  personal  ambition,  love  of 
place,  and  power. 

I  would  n<jt  be  without  a  healthy  ambition,  but 
wish  it  to  move  outwards  in  the  direction  of  service, 
rather  than  in  the  direction  of  sellish  accumulation. 

Do  not  think  this  is  all  so  unselfish  as  it  may 
look.  For  I  perceive  it  to  be  the  ha})piest  kind  (^f 
life.  It  is  the  better  end  of  the  bargain.  The  men 
who  are  after  fame,  and  notoriety,  and  great  wealth, 
impress  me  as  having  taken  the  wrong  road  to  joy- 
ous living. 

I  believe  that  if  I  honestly  try  to  live  for  the 
common  good,  all  that  is  best  for  me  may  come  my 
way.  I  have  no  desire  to  get  a  fortune  and  then  to 
give  it  away.  I  would  rather  live  nearer  the  level 
of  the  average  man,  and  do  the  best  I  can  for  the 
world  in  the  meantime. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur: 

rou  strike  a  deeper  note  in  your  letter  than 
I  dare  profess  to  have  struck  in  my  own  life.  Your 
desire  to  give  rather  than  to  get,  to  such  an  extent 
as  not  to  desire  wealth,  or  fame,  or  power,  is  a 

[175] 


Self- Giving,    or    Getting? 

noble  one.  And  if  you  can  persist  in  that  temper 
of  mind,  as  well  as  work  hard,  you  will  have  my 
hearty  sympathy.  But  I  must  make  it  very  clear 
to  you,  that  I  cannot  claim  to  have  stood  upon  such 
high  ground  during  most  of  my  life. 

I  began  my  business  cai'eer  with  a  desire  to  make 
money  honestly,  and  with  fairness  to  all  with  whom 
I  came  into  contact.  I  have  carried  out  my  de- 
termination to  give  away  a  certain  amount,  as  a 
minimum  every  year,  and  to  give  as  much  of  my 
time  and  strength  to  good  causes  as  I  could  spai'e 
from  my  business.  While  I  might  have  done  a 
great  deal  more  in  every  direction  than  I  have  done, 
I  have  not  consciously  violated  my  conscience  in  my 
dealings  with  my  fellow  men. 

At  the  same  time,  I  have  sometimes  felt  the 
appeal  of  the  higher  type  of  living,  such  as  one 
witnesses  in  the  man  who  sacrifices  his  life  for 
his  country,  or  for  the  Christian  cause  in  a  be- 
nighted distant  land.  I  have  been  conscious  that 
the  industrial  system,  of  which  I  was  a  part,  is  not 
the  highest  expression  of  Christian  })rinci]>les. 

But  1  have  had  no  clear  light  upon  a  higher  way. 

The  social  theories  which  profess  to  be  a  higher 
way,  for  the  conduct  of  business,  have  not  so  im- 
pressed me.  The  increased  hunum  freedom,  whicli 
their  exponents  profess  to  be  bound  up  in  those 
theories,  has  a])peared  to  me  to  be  an  illusion. 

Besides,  when  one  finds  himself  in  the  midst  of 

[  m  J 


The    Father's    Reply 


a  social  S3'stem  which  may  not  be  ideal,  but  with 
no  better  at  hand,  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  go  on 
with  it,  and  make  the  best  use  of  actual  conditions. 
I  have  steadily  endeavoured  to  do  that,  but,  as  I 
have  already  said,  not  without  grave  misgivings  as 
to  the  ethical  soundness  of  the  system  in  which  I 
found  myself. 

Many  men  of  affairs  are  as  fully  convinced  as 
the  most  extreme  social  revolutionists,  that  things 
as  they  are  do  not  represent  the  last  word  of  prog- 
ress in  the  world  of  business.  But  the  honest  diffi- 
culty in  the  hearts  of  multitudes  is  to  find  a  better 
system. 

It  is  a  great  mistake  for  some  men  to  think  that 
every  rich  man  is  the  enemy  of  a  do Avn right  Chris- 
tian commercial  morality.  I  have  sufficient  faith 
in  many  of  the  men  I  know  to  believe  that,  if  they 
w^ere  to  see  clearly  new,  sound,  principles  of  better- 
ment, they  would  be  willing  to  make  the  sacrifices 
necessary  to  put  them  into  practice.  There  is  in 
our  day  a  latent  reserve  of  heroism  ready  to  follow 
the  leader  who  can  convince  thoughtful  men  that 
his  path  leads  to  genuine  progress. 

In  the  meantime,  if  young  men  like  yourself  are 
willing  to  make  sacrifices  at  the  outset  of  their 
career,  by  choosing  to  serve  in  those  spheres  of 
activity  where  they  can  aid  in  bi'inging  light  upon 
the  situation,  they  can  do  incalculable  good.  If 
by  their  example,  they  are  willing  to  so  live  as  to 

[177] 


Self- Giving,    or    Getting? 

help  to  change  the  ideals  of  young  men  as  to  the 
true  meaning  of  success,  and  the  true  road  to  hap- 
piness, they  can  have  a  hand  in  giving  back  the  joy- 
ous spirit  to  the  national  life,  and  in  helping  the 
nation  to  a  higher  type  of  progress. 

For  I  am  convinced  that  much  of  the  social  dis- 
content of  our  time  is  caused  by  the  senseless,  and 
insolent,  and  vulgarly  advertised,  ostentation  of 
modern  society. 

If  there  is  to  be  a  spirit  of  national  contentment, 
there  must  be  not  only  a  levelling  up  of  the  strug- 
gling poor,  but  a  levelling  down  of  the  foi'tunate, 
and  especially  in  the  direction  of  all  kinds  of  osten- 
tation. 

And  if  this  levelling  down  can  take  place  by  a 
process  of  voluntary  surrender  of  privileges,  and 
modes  of  living,  to  such  an  extent  as  to  wholly 
Christianize  the  ideals  of  men  of  your  class,  a 
gradual  revolution  may  be  wrought  in  the  thought 
and  life  of  the  nation  without  social  convulsion. 

Of  course,  some  few  heroic  souls  must  take  the 
lead.  They  must  stoop  to  conquer.  They  may 
have  to  endure  misunderstanding,  and  much  ci-iti- 
cism,  as  they  cease  to  pursue  prizes  which  may 
easily  be  theirs. 

But  if  there  is  a  clear  understanding  of  the  call 
of  the  Spirit  of  God  to  delinite  work  to  1)C  done, 
and  an  unreserved  willing-ness  to  pay  the  ))i'ice 
necessary  in  order  to  achieve  results,  the  contagion 

[ITS  J 


The    Father's    Reply 


of  their  enthusiasm  in  such  pursuits  may  set  fire  to 
the  pent-up  longing  for  reality  which  dwells  in  tens 
of  thousands  of  hearts. 

And  this  seems  to  be  the  psychological  moment 
for  such  a  venture  of  faith.  There  is  a  very  real 
sense  of  disappointment  with  what  the  world  has 
to  offer  in  the  way  of  satisfaction. 

Men  and  women  have  not  received  the  measure 
of  happiness  which  they  had  hoped  for  from  the 
pursuits  to  which  they  have  sold  themselves. 

I  am  convinced  that  if  they  were  to  see  the 
real,  the  unsullied,  joys  of  life  in  the  lives  of  those 
who  were  in  an  attitude  of  complete  surrender  to 
service,  there  might  be  a  movement  started  towards 
the  simpliKcation  of  the  problems  of  our  time  which 
would  amaze  us  all. 

But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  notes  of  joy,  en- 
thusiasm, high  hopefulness,  must  pervade  the 
personality  of  those  who  are  to  have  a  hand  in  the 
bringing  in  of  a  simpler,  a  more  rational,  and 
sacrificial  type  of  living. 

It  is  the  fresh,  dauntless  gladness  of  self-sacrific- 
ing men  ami  women  wliich  must  act  as  a  dissolving 
atmosphere  upon  the  hard  worldliness  of  the 
world. 

It    is    the  moral   beauty   that   must   shine   out 


through  a  true  life  which  will  make  its  influence 
contagious. 

The  grim,  severe  type  of  self-sacrificing  character 

[  no  ] 


Self- Giving,    or    Getting? 

will  doubtless  achieve  something,  but  it  is  to  those 
who  have  the  secret  of  radiant  hopefulness  we  must 
look  for  that  larger  influence  upon  others,  which 
shall  win  them  to  higher  aims  in  the  living  of  life. 
The  future  is  in  the  hands  of  the  young  men,  and 
if  some  of  them  will  dare  to  follow  the  gleam  of 
light  which  calls  them  towards  social  progress,  if 
they  will  try  to  keep  themselves  free  from  every 
entanglement  which  would  compromise  their  free- 
dom of  soul,  they  may  lead  us  into  the  promised 
land  of  a  richer,  fuller  life.  For  its  satisfactions 
will  consist  not  so  much  in  the  possession  of  things, 
but  in  the  possession  of  a  liberated  spirit,  finding 
the  springs  of  happiness  in  our  own  self -forgetting, 
industrious,  soul. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[180] 


The    Son's    Letter 


XXII 

A  VOCATION 
IN  LIFE 

My  dear  Father: 

I  was  not  greatly  surprised  when  you  told 
me  some  time  ago  that  you  were  thinking  of  giving 
the  rest  of  your  life  to  the  service  of  the  larger 
problems  of  the  world. 

Your  letter  raises  the  question  in  my  own  mind 
as  to  what  my  life-work  slicjuld  be.  It  is  impressed 
upon  me,  that  if  my  father,  whose  judgment  I  have 
learned  to  look  upon  as  sound,  thinks  it  to  be  a 
high  privilege  to  give  years  of  his  life  to  the 
serious  and  sustained  study  and  service  of  unsolved 
social  problems,  that  I  could  possibly  make  no 
better  use  of  the  whole  of  my  life  than  to  be  engaged 
in  such  service.  If  your  business  may  not  need  you, 
then  it  certainly  could  not  possibly  require  me. 

But  I  am  frankly  at  a  loss  to  know  what  factors 
should  enter  into  the  decision  as  to  what  sphere  of 
work  should  engage  my  attention. 

I  clearly  untlerstand  that  a  man  may  serve  the 
world  in  any  kind  of  employment  which  is  a 
legitimate  part  of  human  enterprise,  so  long  as  the 
man  himself  rings  true,  and  his  enterprise  is  straight 
and  fair. 

[181] 


A    Vocation    in    Life 


But  you  hinted  that  you  were  sometimes  not 
sure  that  the  commercial  system,  of  which  you 
are  a  part,  is  what  it  sliould  be.  Could  I  give 
my  humble  contribution  towards  the  betterment  of 
that  system  more  advantageously  by  becoming  part 
of  it,  or  by  remaining  on  the  outside  of  it  ?  That 
seems  to  be  the  primary  question  which  I  must  an- 
swer to  my  own  satisfaction. 

If  I  go  into  it  may  I  not  find  myself,  sooner  or 
later,  in  circumstances  which  shall  tend  to  stultify 
my  convictions  ?  And  then  there  would  be  no  alter- 
native between  getting  out,  or  surrendering  to  the 
current  morality  of  the  business,  or  of  injuring  the 
prosperity  of  the  business  of  which  I  would  only  be 
an  insignificant  part. 

Of  course,  the  commercial  activities  of  the  world 
must  go  on.  They  cannot  stop  for  repairs.  But 
after  all  is  my  first  obligation  to  the  affairs  of 
commerce,  or  is  it  to  live  up  to  my  highest  light  ? 

I  am  determined  not  to  go  into  anytliing  into 
which  I  cannot  bring  my  supreme  motive  for  liv- 
ing. I  would  not  be  content  to  find  myself  in 
circumstances  which  simply  compelled  me  to  go 
round  and  round  in  a  treachnill  of  compromise, 
which  destroyed  my  aim  in  life,  which  held  me  fast, 
soul  and  body,  with  only  one  satisfaction :  that  I 
was  earning  money. 

I  recognize  it  is  necessary  to  earn  money,  but  there 
are  some  other  things  equally  necessary.    And  since 

[182] 


The    Son's    Letter 


personal  freetU^m  is  a  glorious  j)rivilege,  which  lias 
been  earned  by  the  heroism  of  true  and  courageous 
men,  I  j)ropose  to  cling  to  that  priceless  possession. 

1  do  not  want  much  from  the  world,  and  there- 
fore I  can  alford  in  some  measure  to  choose  my 
sphere  of  work.  If  I  were  bent  upon  making  a 
fortune,  or  a  great  name,  I  might  have  to  grasp  at 
the  first  advantageous  offer,  without  considering- 
very  deeply  what  the  step  involved.  But  I  want 
something  better  than  a  fortune ;  I  insist  upon  pos- 
sessing freedom,  inner  satisfaction,  and  a  rational 
goal  for  ray  efforts.  These  are  what  appeal  to  me. 
And  such  a  choice  does  not  smack  of  saintliness. 
It  is  simply  an  attempt  to  enter  upon  the  privilege  of 
personal  liberty  which  has  been  bequeathed  by  the 
centuries.  Not  freedom  from  work,  but  freedom 
to  choose  my  work,  and  to  work  all  the  harder 
because  I  may  bring  my  unbroken  personality  and 
clean  motive  into  the  doing  of  it. 

I  quite  recognize  that  usefulness  does  not  depend 
upon  being  in  any  one  kind  of  occupation.  Useful- 
ness, as  you  have  taught  me  to  understand  it,  is  first 
of  all  a  by-product  of  character. 

And  yet  at  the  same  time  there  are  some  occupa- 
tions that  may  more  directly  tend  to  help  the  world 
along  than  others.  There  are  some  departments 
of  enterprise  in  which,  all  things  being  equal,  it  is 
possible  more  definitely  to  realize  one's  ideal  in  the 
service  of  humanity. 

[183] 


A    Vocation    in    Life 


For  one  thing,  one  would  have  more  time  to  do 
what  he  wants  to  do,  and  I  imagine  that  is  one  of 
the  supreme  elements  in  your  own  decision.  You 
have  told  me  many  times,  that  there  were  intricate 
problems  which  you  wished  to  think  through,  but 
because  of  all  the  other  matters  which  had  prior 
claims  upon  your  time,  you  had  to  pass  them  on  to 
others. 

I  would  like  to  give  my  life  to  some  task  in  which 
I  could  have  ample  time  to  really  help  solve  some  of 
the  root  problems  of  our  day.  A  deep  conviction 
holds  me  to  the  idea  that  the  world  cannot  really 
move  forward  uialess  men  have  time  to  get  to  the 
bottom  of  things.  Is  not  that  the  reason  why  sci- 
ence has  commanded  respect  ?  It  has  not  lived 
upon  annual  meetings,  and  votes  of  thanks,  and 
thrilling  speeches.  It  has  not  vindicated  itself  by 
having  influential  men  on  platforms,  and  financial 
magnates  dropping  in  to  say  a  few  kind  and  genu- 
ine words,  breathless  from  a  round  of  directors' 
meetings. 

Science  has  held  on  its  way,  and  compelled  public 
attention,  because  men  gave  their  time  to  problems 
that  were  far  below  the  surface.  True  men  of  sci- 
ence have  been  content  to  live  without  the  applause 
of  public  meetings ;  their  inspiration  has  been  the 
sense  of  the  reality  of  their  work.  There  has  been 
no  fussing,  and  perspiring,  before  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  but  thev  have  brought  things  to  pass  be- 

L  18^  J 


The    Father's    Reply 


cause  they  had  time.  They  had  clear  visions  as  to 
what  they  were  after,  and  they  jjursued  their  quest 
in  an  atmosphere  of  quiet  reality. 

I  would  like  to  do  that  sort  of  thing,  in  connec- 
tion with  one  or  other  of  the  aspects  of  the  work 
for  the  moral  progress  of  the  wijrld. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

You  have  a  very  great  advantage  over  the 
vast  majority  of  young  men,  in  not  having  to  be 
immediately  concerned  in  the  matter  of  earning  a 
living.  They  are  compelled  by  the  force  of  circum- 
stances to  accept  whatever  offers  them  a  means  of 
decent  livelihood.  They  have  practically  no  choice ; 
and  that  limitation,  while  it  has  disadvantages, 
has  most  valuable  advantages.  Necessity  develojis 
sti'ength,  and  taps  resources,  which  would  lie  dor- 
mant or  become  perverted.  Necessity  has  spurred 
men  on  to  achieve  those  things  whicii  have  made 
this  nation  what  it  is.  And  if  you  were  not  the 
man  I  believe  you  to  be,  you  would  be  compelled 
to  earn  your  own  bread  immediately  after  your 
studies  were  completed. 

But  I  recognize  that  the  possession  of  money  has 
this  great  advantage :  it  makes  it  possible  for  a  man 

[185] 


A    Vocation    in    Life 


to  choose  the  sphere  in  which  he  shall  labour. 
That,  in  my  judgment,  is  one  of  the  supreme  op- 
portunities which  money  affords.  It  helps  a  man 
to  assert  his  freedom  in  selecting  his  occupation. 
And  that  is  a  very  precious  privilege.  But  to  turn 
that  privilege  into  an  excuse  for  doing  nothing,  or 
worse  than  nothing,  is  the  prostitution  of  a  great 
opportunity.  And  it  is  because  many  men  have 
the  impression  that  the  possession  of  money  may 
excuse  them  from  toil,  that  money  becomes  an  ap- 
palling curse  to  them,  and  they  themselves  in  turn 
become  a  menace  to  the  welfare  of  society. 

However,  I  believe  with  all  my  heart  that  you 
want  to  work,  and  to  work  hard ;  but  you  would 
like  to  be  free  to  select  your  place,  not  for  the  sake 
of  personal  ease,  but  in  the  interests  of  the  largest 
possible  effectiveness  of  your  life. 

And  I  am  heartily  willing  to  back  you  up  in 
your  search  for  that  sphere  in  which  you  can  make 
the  best  possible  investment  of  your  life  for  the 
common  good. 

I  believe  it  would  be  a  real  service  to  problems 
of  our  time,  if  young  men,  like  yourself,  were  to 
give  themselves  to  public  service  rather  than  to 
private  gain,  if  you,  and  many  of  those  who  are  in 
similar  circumstances,  were  to  give  place  in  the 
business  world  to  those  who  are  in  greater  need  of 
the  opportunity  to  earn  money,  and  who  cannot  ex- 
ercise the  same  freedom  of  choice  to  select  an  un- 

[186] 


The    Father's    Reply 


remunei"iti\o  vocation,  in  which  the  prospects  of 
earning  a  living  are  likely  to  be  precarious. 

It  is  (july  I'air  play,  that  men  who  are  in  a  posi- 
tion to  be  able  to  venture  upon  unremunerative 
efforts  for  human  progress  should  do  so,  while  they 
leave  the  remunerative  work  oi"  commercial  enter- 
prise to  those  who  cannot  venture  upon  the  other 
kind  of  work,  because  of  their  circumstances. 

It  is  as  if  a  man  who  has  no  family  obligations 
were  to  take  the  place,  at  the  seat  of  war,  of  one  who 
had  a  large  family  dei)endent  upon  him.  Why 
should  that  same  self -effacing  spirit  not  have  an  op- 
portunity to  play  its  part  in  the  ordinary  work  of 
the  world  ?  Why  should  not  the  sons  of  rich  men, 
in  larger  numbers,  tackle  the  unremunerative, 
thankless,  tasks  that  lie  in  the  way  of  social  regen- 
eration ? 

Why  should  they  seek  to  add  to  a  pile  which  is 
already  large  enough  for  all  their  needs,  while  poor 
men  who  cannot  make  ends  meet  are  doing  the 
thankless,  miserably  paid,  pioneer  work  ?  And 
much  of  it  is  left  undone. 

I  cordially  sympathize  with  your  perplexity  of 
mind  in  regard  to  w^hat  your  life-work  should  be, 
and  am  immensely  pleased  with  the  serious  con- 
sideration you  are  evidently  giving  the  matter. 
There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  you  should 
not  give  your  life  to  liel])ing  some  phase  of  the 
moral  progress  of  the  world.     As  you  rightly  say, 

[187] 


A    Vocation    in    Life 


that  can  be  done  directly  and  indirectly.  It  can  be 
done  in  business,  and  it  can  be  done  outside  of 
business. 

I  believe  the  time  is  ripe  for  larger  numbers  of  men 
to  grip  the  situation  on  the  frontiers  of  social  change, 
to  clear  the  way  for  the  men  who  are  struggling 
in  business  with  present  economic  conditions.  The 
work  of  getting  the  world  on  the  highroad  of  its 
true  destiny  has  not  had  system  enough  in  its  pros- 
ecution. Men  and  women  have  been  content  to  do 
something,  anything,  so  long  as  they  felt  they  were 
in  some  small  degree  useful.  They  have  been  keen 
upon  having  something  to  do,  on  doing  something,  to 
satisfy  their  own  self-respect,  or  their  own  earnest 
feelings,  rather  than  intent  upon  definitely  going  to 
the  very  root  of  the  social  problem. 

The  result  has  been  that  good  work  has  over- 
lapped to  an  extraordinary  degree,  and  confusion 
has  reigned  because  a  sufficient  number  of  people 
have  not  had  time,  or  capacity  enough,  to  get  down 
to  the  basic  facts.  And  because  there  has  been  no 
large,  serious  attempt  to  systematize  the  various 
sections  and  departments  of  voluntary  work  for  the 
betterment  of  the  world,  there  has  been  no  adequate 
recognition  of  the  vital  relation  that  one  ])hase  of 
it  should  maintain  to  another  phase  of  it.  The  result 
is  that  many  of  the  earnest  workers  in  the  work  of 
the  world  are  hostile  towards  each  other,  they  are 
suspicious  of  each  other,  they  think  their  spliere  of- 

[188] 


The    Father's    Reply 


fers  the  only  real  work,  and  those  in  other  spheres 
are  only  visionaries  or  shams. 

Take  fur  example  the  work  of  the  socialists, 
especially  on  the  continent  of  Europe  ;  and  the  work 
of  the  Christian  Church.  There  exists  an  attitude 
of  mutual  dread  and  suspicion  between  them. 
Why  ?  One  reason  is  that  men  have  not  been 
taught  to  see  the  unity  of  the  problem  with  which 
they  are  both  wrestling.  Their  views  of  the  situ- 
ation are  too  shallow  and  too  narrow.  They  are 
not  wholly  to  blame  for  that.  They  have  had  no 
time,  no  training,  to  see  things  steadily  and  to  see 
them  whole.  They  have  simply  slashed  away  at 
what,  to  them,  was  of  the  essence  of  reality,  while 
they  were  tempted  to  look  at  the  other  men  who 
were  not  in  their  camp  as  either  fools  or  knaves. 

While  I  am  not  a  socialist,  I  believe  with  all  my 
soul  that  the  socialist  is  working  at  a  terribly  real 
problem.  And  it  is  the  last  word  of  foolishness  for 
men  simply  to  try  to  overthrow  the  arguments  of 
socialism,  and  let  the  matter  rest  there.  I  pei'son- 
ally  think  those  arguments  can  be  overturned,  but 
the  real  point  is  that  socialists  are  trying  to  solve 
desperate  social  evils,  and  many  of  them  are  at  their 
task  with  passionate  self-sacrifice,  and  it  is  for  those 
of  us  who  are  not  socialists  to  have  the  same  burn- 
ing concern  for  the  solution  of  those  fundamental 
problems.  It  is  for  us  to  think  to  the  bottom 
of  those  questions,  and  not  merely  to  turn  away 

[189] 


A    Vocation    in    Life 


to  some  superficial  good,  saying  we  are  not  so- 
cialists. 

A  plaster  of  charity  is  no  substitute  for  a  burning 
fever  of  deep  social  trouble.  On  the  other  hand, 
you  and  I  believe  with  all  our  hearts  in  the  sublime 
importance  of  the  work  to  which  the  Christian 
Church  is  pledged.  We  believe  that  the  redemp- 
tion of  human  character  must  always  underlie  every 
movement  towards  social  advancement.  We  know, 
all  too  well,  that  even  when  people  get  fine  houses 
that  does  not  give  them  fine  characters  ;  we  know 
that  all  the  scoundrels  in  the  world  are  not  down  in 
the  slums.  It  is  only  as  personal  character  is 
changed  and  inspired  that  social  imjirovement  Avill 
have  any  guarantee  of  pei'inanence.  So  that  the 
social  and  the  religious  problems  are  one  problem, 
they  can  only  be  solved  in  the  unity  of  mutual 
understanding  and  sym}iathy.  And  that  unity 
will  be  realized  and  recognized  only  as  larger 
numbers  of  men  and  women  have  time  to  think  to 
the  bottom  of  the  situation.  Hurried,  feverish  ef- 
forts at  social  redeni])tion  have  divorced  earnest- 
ness and  common  sense.  It  is  men  who  have 
method,  scientific  thoroughness,  as  well  as  earnest- 
ness, to  whom  we  must  look  to  bi'ing  about  the  great 
reconciliation. 

Whatever  the  s])here  may  be  which  one  selects, 
there  are  two  things  which  should  be  steadily  borne 
in  mind.    The  first  of  these  is  that  the  aim  must  be 

[190] 


The    Father's    Reply 


to  unify,  to  move  towards  the  elimination  of  waste, 
both  of  effort  and  money,  to  make  everything  in 
one  section  of  enterprise  bend  towards  closer  re- 
lations with  every  otlier  section,  in  the  solution  of 
fundamental  dilliculties.  The  second  thing  to  be 
remembered  is  that  the  motive  in  one  section  of 
effoi't  must  be  as  higli  as  in  any  other.  If  one 
should  choose  legislation  as  his  sphere  of  activity 
he  must  as  distinctly  work  for  the  coming  of  the 
kingdom  of  God  on  earth  as  if  he  were  in  the 
Church.  It  is  the  lack  of  the  high  motive  which  is 
in  part  kee])ing  back  the  progress  of  the  world. 
Why  is  it  that  so  many  upright  men  refuse  to 
touch  })olitics  ?  It  is  sometimes  because  they  lind 
so  many  men  in  })olitics  who  are  professional  time- 
servers.  They  are  in  it  with  low  motives  which 
they  would  be  ashamed  to  confess.  Many  high- 
minded  men  feel,  rightly  or  wrongly,  that  it  is  quite 
useless  for  them  to  face  situations  which  are  soaked 
through  with  intrigue,  and  baseness,  at  least  until 
the  time  shall  come  when  larger  numbers  of  in- 
corruptible men  are  ready  to  cooperate  in  the  task 
of  bringing  political  life  up  to  the  standard  which 
should  obtain  in  work  so  vital  to  the  cause  of  hu- 
man progress.  I  am  not  passing  an  opinion ;  I 
am  simply  stating  a  fact,  and  it  is  because  of  that 
fact  the  social  situation  remains  in  its  present  con- 
dition. 

The  work  of  all  true  progress  is  a  unity,  and  that 

[191] 


A    Vocation    in    Life 


being  so,  the  motive  in  pursuing  all  progressive  work 
must  be  as  exalted  in  one  part  of  it  as  in  another. 

And  wherever  the  aim  towards  unity  is  thwarted, 
wherever  the  motive  in  reaching  that  aim  is  low 
and  unclean,  there  exists  treachery  to  the  common 
good,  treachery  just  as  loathsome  as  where  it  exists 
in  a  soldier  selling  his  country  to  the  enemy  for  a 
price. 

The  difficulty  which  I  see  confronting  you  is  not 
so  much  that  of  finding  a  sphere  of  usefulness,  as 
whether,  when  it  is  found,  you  will  find  a  sufficient 
number  of  men  in  that  sphere  ready  to  risk  the 
security  of  their  positions,  and  their  reputations,  in 
order  to  turn  their  convictions  into  large,  concrete, 
social  facts. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[192] 


The    Son's    Letter 


XXIII 

CONVICTION 
AS  TO  DUTY 

My  dear  Fattier  : 

I  wish  the  college  authorities  recognized  the 
need  for  a  chair,  or  for  some  other  means  whereby 
men  like  myself  might  get  a  bird's  eye  view  of  the 
whole  scheme  for  social  progress.  One  can  see  at 
a  glance,  the  elevations  and  depressions  of  the 
Alpine  region  by  looking  at  a  clay  miniature  of 
the  situation  in  a  S^viss  museum.  It  is  an  enormous 
help  towards  intelligently  visualizing  the  entire 
locality. 

Is  such  a  thing  not  possible  in  the  realm  of  social 
progress  ? 

It  is  most  interesting  and  inspiring  to  hear  phase 
after  phase  of  our  social  condition,  and  outlook,  and 
hope,  described.  But  speaking  for  myself,  while 
one  may  assent  to  it  all,  it  appears  before  the  mind 
as  a  confused  mass.  It  falls  upon  one's  brain  like 
the  torrents  of  Niagara ;  there  is  so  much  that  the 
mind,  like  a  cup,  cannot  get  any  of  the  water.  It 
is  quite  impossible  to  get  a  glass  of  water  from  the 
great  cataract.  And  so  I  find  it  next  to  impos- 
sible to  establish  a  point  of  contact  with  the  prob- 
lems of  social  progress. 

[193] 


Conviction    as    to    Duty 

AVhat  I  would  like  to  possess  is  some  clear  view 
of  the  situation,  as  each  section  of  effort  stands  re- 
lated to  the  other.  As  it  all  noAV  appears  before 
my  mind,  every  exponent  of  every  single  phase  of 
social  work  declares  that  his  sphere  of  enterprise  is 
the  one  which  demands  and  deserves  the  first  claim 
to  public  consideration. 

The  public  mind  is  not  apathetic,  it  is  hopelessly 
confused.  It  is  not  that  everybody  is  indifferent. 
It  is  that  one  enthusiasm  cancels  the  other  one,  and 
indifference  for  many  minds  is  the  only  refuge  from 
contending  forces.  It  is  like  a  dozen  bands  all 
playing  at  the  same  time. 

It  is  not  from  the  music  people  run  away.  It  is 
from  the  deafening  noise.  The  music  is  magnificent, 
if  it  could  only  be  heard  intelligently.  And  the 
people  will  listen  eagerly  when  some  kind  of  order 
is  established  in  regard  to  the  playing. 

In  the  meantime  great  masses  of  the  population 
are  listening  to  nothing  at  all.  Or  if  they  are 
listening  they  hear  only  a  vast  clashing  of  sounds. 
If  I  could  obtain  some  intelligent  plan  which  pic- 
tured each  phase  of  social  service,  showing  how 
and  where  each  penetrates  the  other,  and  clearly 
demonstrating  the  true  places  of  emphasis,  it  would 
be  an  enormous  advantage  and  inspiration. 

The  workers  upon  the  Panama  Canal,  I  under- 
stand, have  a  plan  of  the  whole  gigantic  undertaking 
conveniently  put  before  them,  so  that  they  may 

[  li»4  ] 


The    Son's    Letter 


have  an  intelligent  idea  of  the  place  which  their 
particular  task  occupies  in  the  vast  <^eneral  scheme. 
Such  an  arrangement  gives  zest  and  rational  satis- 
faction to  a  \v(ji'ker. 

That  is  what  I  am  after,  and  thousands  of  willing 
men  are  in  the  same  jx^sition.  They  want  to  see 
the  relation  of  their  toil  and  sacrifice  to  the  whole 
enterprise.  They  want  to  be  sure  that  they  are  not 
merely  going  through  motions  which  lead  to  noth- 
ing and  nowhere. 

I  am  thoroughly  convinced  that  religion  is  the 
fundamental  necessity  in  all  genuine  social  progress 
and  ui)ward  change.  But  then  as  you  pointed  out 
to  me  in  a  former  letter,  religion  deals  with  the 
inner  life,  and  it  deals  with  the  outer  life.  It  has  a 
mission  of  regeneration  in  the  individual,  and  also 
in  society.  It  does  its  work  in  a  Christian  pulpit, 
through  a  Christian  hospital  and  school  in  China, 
through  Christian  legislation  in  a  legislative  as- 
sembly, through  the  Christian  spirit  in  every  phase 
of  corporate  life. 

I  would  like  to  fling  myself  against  the  over- 
whelming pi'oblem  at  its  very  foundation.  And 
consetjuently  I  sometimes  think  I  must  go  into  the 
Church  at  home  or  abroad ;  again  it  comes  to  me 
that  I  should  try  to  live  out  my  life  in  thinking 
through  social  questions,  and  at  another  time  it 
strikes  me  that  I  should  have  a  hand  in  legislatino: 
just  laws  for  the  suffering  j)oor  ;  at  still  another  time 

[195] 


Conviction    as    to    Duty 

I  feel  as  if  I  should  try  to  live  out  my  convictions 
in  business. 

But  wherever  my  lot  is  to  be  cast  I  must  have  a 
sense  of  striking  reality,  of  being  free  to  express 
the  truth  that  may  be  in  me,  and  not  merely  going 
round  in  a  circle  of  aimless  duty.  I  assert  my  sov- 
ereign right  not  to  be  held  down  by  traditional 
ways  in  my  work,  which  may  have  long  since 
parted  company  with  common  sense.  The  only 
slavery  to  which  I  am  willing  to  indenture  myself 
is  that  in  which  I  shall,  all  the  time,  be  consciously 
serving  the  progressive  common  good  of  the  people. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

Arthur. 


My  dear  Arthur: 

I  thoroughly  sympathize  with  your  perplex- 
ity in  trying  to  discover  what  your  sphere  of  use- 
fulness should  be.  I  am  not  quite  so  sure  that  a 
university  chair,  such  as  3^ou  describe,  would  give  you 
as  much  help  as  you  imagine.  The  clearest  possible 
light  on  the  entire  social  situation,  while  it  would 
give  you  mental  illumination,  would  not  solve  for 
you  the  problem  of  your  })articular  ]ilace  in  the 
army  of  workers. 

Of  course,  there  must  be  information,  and,  if  pos- 
sible, such  information  as  will  show  how  each  de- 
partment of  enterprise  interpenetrates  every  other. 

[  li^G  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


But  you  must  linally  settle  the  matter  of  your  sphere 
ill  your  own  soul. 

Let  me  suggest  that  you  write  down  upon  pa])er 
the  things  3'ou  want  to  achieve.  Keep  that  pa})e)' 
in  your  desk,  add  to  it,  subtract  from  it,  as  the  days 
go  by.  Do  not  be  carried  away  by  any  mere  pop- 
ular tendency.  You  have  decided  not  to  drift  into 
your  work  ;  be  very  careful  lest  you  do  that  in  spite 
of  yourself. 

Settle  in  your  own  mind  where  the  supreme 
points  of  emphasis  in  service  lie. 

Is  it  the  individual  or  society  for  which  you  are 
going  to  work ;  or  both,  and  in  what  proportion  of 
emphasis  ? 

What  is  it  in  the  individual  you  seek  to  help  and 
inspire  ?  AVhat  is  your  main  idea  in  social  endeav- 
our ?  And  after  that  is  achieved,  what  then  ? 
After  social  betterment,  what  ? 

In  the  meantime,  look  out  upon  the  world  and 
see  in  which  sphere  the  work  which  you  think  re- 
quires most  to  be  done,  is  being  performed. 

Consult  some  earnest  men  among  your  associates, 
whose  fathers  are  in  the  struggle  for  the  uplift  of 
the  world  in  its  various  sections.  You  can  often 
get  at  the  real  situation  as  you  get  information 
which  comes  fresh  from  the  home  life.  There  men 
are  off  their  guard,  there  they  talk  straight  out  of 
their  hearts  to  a  degree  to  which  they  do  not  al- 
ways declare  themselves  elsewhere.     Those  young 

[  107  j 


Conviction    as    to    Duty- 
fellows  with  whom  you  are  associated,  Avith  their 
keen   scent  for  reality,  can  give  you  the  impres- 
sions which  they  have  received  from  behind  the 
scenes  at  home. 

Of  course,  you  must  make  allowances  for  their 
impressions  being  in  some  degree  inaccurate,  or 
prejudiced.  But  at  the  same  time  let  the  informa- 
tion they  give  you  have  some  place  in  the  general 
problem.  It  is  not  a  prime  factor  in  the  solution, 
but  give  it  a  place. 

While  you  are  steadily  gathering  the  facts  for 
your  decision,  do  not  let  anything  or  anybody 
hurry  you  into  anything  rash.  But  as  conviction 
grows  upon  you,  give  it  the  right  of  "way.  Trust 
that  conviction ;  do  not  let  anything  chill  it.  Do  not 
wait  for  any  man,  or  any  number  of  men,  to  join 
you  in  your  conviction.  As  you  have  asserted,  you 
have  resolved  to  claim  your  right  of  freedom  of 
choice.  Maintain  that  freedom.  Trust  the  grow- 
ing intuitions  of  your  own  soul.  It  would  be  cow- 
ardice to  wait  for  a  crowd  to  join  you  in  arriving 
at  a  conclusion.  Men  lose  convictions  by  trifling 
with  them  in  that  way.  It  is  possible  by  so  doing 
to  destroy  every  clue  to  a  solution  which  you  have 
been  gathering.  Keep  guard  over  that  precious 
passion  which  is  growing  up  within  you.  Let  no 
man,  let  no  social  atmosphere,  steal  that  crown  of 
yijiir  manhood.  For  the  growth  of  that  secret  con- 
viction of  your  soul,  as  to  what  you  should  do  with 

[  IDb  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


your  life,  is  of  far  more  value  to  you  than  the  crown 
jewels  of  an  empire. 

The  man  who  steals  that  conviction  which  you 
have  been  nourishing  in  the  holy  phice  of  your  life 
takes  from  you  a  priceless  treasure. 

Bathe  your  growing  conviction  in  the  atmosphere 
of  prayer.  Have  stated  periods  when  that  one 
theme,  your  life-work,  is  the  entire  subject  of  your 
petition.  Feed  your  conviction  in  the  secret  place 
of  your  \villing  soul. 

You  may  feel  lonely,  the  loneliness  may  deepen 
as  the  pathway  of  your  life  opens  up  before  your 
mind.  But  there  is  a  sublime  grandeur  about  such 
solitude.  It  is  the  solitude  of  those  who  get  their 
marching  orders  from  the  spirit  of  God,  and  not 
from  the  talk  of  a  social  set.  It  is  the  solitude  of 
progress.  It  is  the  experience  in  which  moral  orig- 
inality is  born.  And  it  is  not  until  men  are  willing 
to  listen  and  obey,  in  the  solitary  hom^  of  Divine 
revelation,  that  there  can  come  any  real  moral  prog- 
ress into  the  life  of  the  world. 

A  Christian  has  not  only  an  obligation  to  obey 
that  summons  w^hich  may  be  approved  by  his  incli- 
nations, or  his  social  surroundings;  he  must  go  where 
he  believes  he  is  being  led.  The  great  Leader  in 
the  Christian  campaign  has  a  world-wide  pro- 
gramme, a  programme  which  knows  no  geogra])h- 
ical  limitations,  no  narrow  provincial  boundaries. 
And  lie  relies  upon  every  man's  obedience. 

[  199  J 


Conviction    as    to    Duty 

His  vast  universal  purpose  can  be  made  an  actual 
cosmic  fact  only  as  His  will  masters  men,  and 
conquers  their  every  reluctance,  and  objection,  as 
their  obedience  rises  patiently,  kindly,  majestically 
abov^e  every  obstacle. 

Such  men,  who  have  not  been  disobedient  to  the 
heavenly  vision,  who  have  not  conferred  with  flesh 
and  blood,  when  their  souls  were  sure  of  the  sum- 
mons, are  the  pioneers  in  the  path  of  the  new 
humanity. 

All  the  rest  are  camp  followers. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


[  200] 


The    Son's    Letter 


XXIV 

THE  POWER  OF 
GOD  IN  WORK 

My  dear  Father  : 

There  is  a  natural  tendency  in  us  all,  I  sup- 
pose, to  shrink  from  taking  a  step  which  has  not 
the  sympathy  of  those  whose  opinion  and  good-will 
are  of  consequence  to  us.  But  as  you  have  said, 
solitude  of  spirit  is  part  of  the  price  which  one  must 
pay  in  order  to  have  a  share  in  carrying  forward 
the  spirit  of  progress.  Some  men,  even  in  college, 
have  had  to  put  that  principle  into  practice  in  bring- 
ing what  is  considered  to  be  "  good  form  "  in  college 
life  up  to  higher  levels. 

There  are  few  things  more  difficult  to  endure 
than  the  sense  of  loneliness  which  a  strong  convic- 
tion as  to  an  unusual  line  of  duty  creates,  in  one 
who  instinctively  dislikes  to  appear  in  any  way 
peculiar. 

But  I  can  readily  understand  how  such  solitude 
of  spirit  forms  part  of  the  discipline  in  self-reliance, 
and  is  the  supreme  condition  of  genuine  self-expres- 
sion. 

If  one  should  retreat  frcjra  the  loneliness  of  soul 
resulting  from  obedience  to  conviction,  to  find 
solace  in  doing  what  the  multitude  approves,  while 

[201] 


The    Power    of    God    in    Work 

it  would  produce  a  feeling  of  comfort,  it  would  cut 
one  off  from  the  possibility  of  being  a  true  servant 
of  the  Divine  will.  It  would  throw  him  out  of  the 
ranks  of  those  who  are  trying  to  translate  the 
progressive  purpose  and  spirit  of  Christ  into  human 
society. 

And  since  I  am  determined  to  make  my  person- 
ality a  channel  of  the  Divine  mind,  rather  than  an 
echo  of  my  surroundings,  I  am  prepared  for  what- 
ever the  consequences  may  be.  The  question  to 
which  I  am  now  brought  is  whether  I  have  a  right 
to  think  that  I  am  good  enough,  or  strong  enough, 
to  look  forward,  without  fatal  presumption,  to  the 
privilege  of  having  a  small  share  in  bringing  the 
mind  and  purpose  of  God  into  the  progressive  life 
of  the  world. 

There  are  hundreds  of  men  all  about  me  who  are 
far  better  and  stronger  than  I.  I  am  not  conscious 
of  possessing  anything  which  would  be  considered 
above  the  average  in  any  direction.  Is  it  not  there- 
fore presumption  on  the  part  of  a  merely  average, 
untried  young  man  to  hope  that  he  may  fill  even 
a  very  obscure  place,  in  the  expanding  purposes  of 
God,  in  the  midst  of  the  struggling,  groping  life  of 
humanity  ? 

While  I  have  resolved  to  nourish  into  robust 
vitality  every  growing  conviction  of  my  soul,  on 
the  other  hand,  I  do  not  wish  to  land  myself  in 
moral  bankruptcy,  by  finding  myself  in  a  position 

[  202] 


The    Father's    Reply 


into  which  1  cannot  bring  the  mental  and  moral 
energy  which  the  circumstances  of  the  case  shall 
re(|uire.  1  wouUl  feel  it  to  be  more  than  Immiliat- 
ing  to  discover  that  what  I  thought  to  be  moral 
earnestness  turned  out  to  be  disillusioned  egotism. 


Your  allectionate  son, 

Artjiuk. 


My  dear  Arthur  : 

There  need  be  no  fear  that  your  earnest 
purpose  will  turn  out  to  be  disillusioned  egotism, 
so  long  as  you  maintain  an  unbroken  trust  in  the 
conquering  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God  w^ithin  you. 
The  same  Spirit  wdio  is  urging  you  forward  is  pledged 
to  sustain  your  efforts.  And  you  must  confidently 
rely  upon  this  sublime  fact  and  tight  against  every 
sign  which  would  seem  to  deny  it.  Your  conflict 
will  be  a  fight  of  faith.  Your  faith  w^ill  be  called 
upon  to  defy  appearances,  and  to  rest  in  the  calm 
assurance  that  your  life  is  victoriously  fulfilling  its 
destiny. 

The  only  thing  w^hich  I  would  impress  upon  you 
is  that  you  must  keep  your  personality  in  that  atti- 
tude which  makes  it  possible  for  the  Spirit  of  God 
to  work  through  you. 

Your  entire  complex  life  is  a  unit,  and  you  must 
live  in  that  unity.  I  mean  you  must  always  act 
from  the  base  of  your  njjiture.     It  is  possible  to  live 

[  203  ] 


The    Power    of   God    in    Work 

in  mere  sections  of  one's  life.  One  may  talk  and 
think,  and  act  without  these  expressions  coming 
from  the  core  of  liis  being.  Just  as  a  part  of  an 
intricate  machine  may  make  revolutions,  while 
another  part  is  idle,  because  the  two  parts  had 
been  disconnected.  So  it  is  possible  to  disconnect 
the  sections  of  your  life.  And  when  such  is  the 
case  the  activity  of  a  single  section  of  the  life  lacks 
real  power,  because  it  is  not  receiving  power 
from  the  Spirit  of  God  at  the  focus  point  of  char- 
acter in  the  elemental  depths  of  the  true  self.  The 
physical,  mental,  and  moral  sections  of  a  life  must 
be  linked  up,  and  maintained  in  that  condition  of 
unity. 

For  example,  it  is  possible  at  one  moment  for 
you  to  talk  merely  from  your  brain  and  voice,  while 
by  remembering,  by  willing,  you  can  cause  your 
speech  to  proceed  from  your  elemental  self,  from 
the  deeper  depths  of  your  nature. 

That  act  produces  a  change,  a  change  which  may 
aflFect  even  the  tone  of  your  voice,  and  it  alters  the 
atmosphere,  the  influence,  which  your  j>ersonality  ex- 
hales. That  is  in  part  the  explanation  of  the  differ- 
ence, of  which  people  are  conscious,  between  a  weak 
and  a  strong  man.  In  the  one  case  the  words 
which  are  uttered  s])ring  from  a  section  of  the 
man,  and  in  the  other  they  rise  from  the  elemental 
man.  Whenever  only  a  part  of  ])ersonality  is  ex- 
pressed in  any  act,  then  the  influence  it  creates  is 

[204] 


The    Father's    Reply 


necessarily  very  slight;  it  is  sometimes  called  a 
lack  of  magnetism.  But  when  the  whole  man  is  in 
an  act,  then  the  power  which  springs  from  human 
character  at  its  base  is  present.  And  that  is  the 
psychological  root  from  which  powerful  influence 
springs. 

How  shall  the  unity  of  personality  be  main- 
tained ?  How  shall  one  keep  his  nature  open  to 
the  inflowing  of  the  power  of  God  ? 

There  are  several  elements  in  the  answer  to  that 
question.  Let  me  mention  one  or  two.  Prayer  is 
one  of  the  most  powerful  means  by  which  the  whole 
life  is  maintained  in  its  unity.  After  a  period  of 
earnest  prayer  one  may  mentally  see  things  differ- 
ently, the  whole  atmos})here  of  the  person  may  be 
changed,  even  his  walking  pace  may  have  been 
altered.  What  has  hai)pened  ?  The  various  sec- 
tions of  the  life  have  been  brought  into  a  unity,  so 
that  the  power  of  God  has  been  able  to  pervade 
all  the  parts  from  the  base  upwards. 

Doing  everything  from  a  high  motive  is  another 
element  in  the  maintenance  of  the  unity  of  the 
whole  life.  Whenever  you  elevate  your  motive  in 
an  action,  you  tend  towards  the  consolidation  of 
your  nature.  And  it  does  not  matter  what  the 
thing  is  which  is  done. 

The  welfare  of  others  as  a  dominating  purpose 
tends  to  preserve  the  unity  of  your  whole  life. 

Leisureliness  of  bearing  is  one  of  the  things  which 

[205  ] 


The    Power    of   God    in    Work 

is  favourable  to  the  maintaining  of  a  united  person- 
ality, just  as  hurry  is  unfavourable.  Hurry  means 
that  a  section  of  the  life  has  run  away  from  the  rest 
of  it.  The  belt  has  slipped  off  the  driving  wheel, 
as  it  were. 

The  Spirit  will  infuse  His  own  life  and  power 
into  your  whole  being  as  you  cooperate  with  Him 
in  keeping  yourself  in  that  attitude  in  which  He 
can  make  use  of  you. 

And  as  you  are  captured  by  a  definite  aim 
towards  which  your  energies  are  bending,  and 
which  reigns  like  a  king  in  your  mind,  you  are  in 
the  possession  of  a  power  which  is  far  mightier 
than  mere  talent  without  such  power. 

No  man  would  claim  to  be  fully  equipped  for  the 
great  position  of  the  presidency  of  the  United 
States,  but  the  occupant  of  that  oiRce  may  fall  back 
upon  the  sublime  fact  that  Divine  power  uses  will- 
ing human  personalities  for  the  accom})lishment  of 
great  ends.  And  every  influence  upon  his  life  may 
conspire  to  expand  and  deepen  his  personality  into 
greatness,  if  he  maintains  the  right  attitude  towards 
those  influences. 

Personal  greatness  is  not  necessarily  the  starting 
point  in  the  situation  ;  it  is  rather  an  intelligent  sur- 
render to  and  cooperation  with  the  Di\'ine  power 
which  is  the  starting  point. 

You  are  something  more  than  a  wire  which  con- 
ducts electricity  from  tlie  point  of  supply  to  the 

[  206  ] 


The    Father's    Reply 


})(jint  of  need,  for  a  wire  merely  conducts,  while 
j)ersoniility  assimilates  what  it  receives  before  it 
carries  light  and  heat  and  power  to  the  point  of 
need.  But  the  electric  wire  illustrates  the  fact  that 
there  are  certain  influences  which  tend  to  destroy, 
or  reduce,  or  increase,  the  power  of  conduction. 
And  so  it  is  the  business  of  every  man  who  seeks  to 
be  an  efficient  conductor  of  the  enhghtening,  em- 
powering, and  inspiring  jiresence  of  God  to  the 
darkness,  weakness,  and  bleak  coldness  of  the  world, 
to  see  to  it  that  nothing  in  him  paralyzes  the  cur- 
rent of  holy  energy.  And  that  current  of  Divine 
power  is  never  turned  off ;  it  waits  upon  the  sur- 
render, the  obedience,  the  unbroken  courage  of 
every  willing  soul. 

Your  Affectionate  Father. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


[207] 


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